"Cheer up, lady-bird; I wish you liked me half as much as I like you!"
"I do like you—oh, so much!" cried Sophy, passionately.
"Well, then, you can write, you say?"
"A little."
"You shall write to me now and then, and I to you. I'll talk to your grandfather about it. Ah, there he is, surely!"
The boat now ran into the shelving creek, and by the honey-suckle arbor stood Gentleman Waife, leaning on his stick.
"You are late," said the actor, as they landed, and Sophy sprang into his arms. "I began to be uneasy, and came here to inquire after you. You have not caught cold, child?"
Sophy. "Oh, no."
Lionel. "She is the best of children. Pray, come into the inn, Mr. Waife; no toddy, but some refreshment."
Waife. "I thank you—no, Sir; I wish to get home at once. I walk slowly; it will be dark soon."
Lionel tried in vain to detain him. There was a certain change in Mr. Waife's manner to him; it was much more distant—it was even pettish, if not surly. Lionel could not account for it—thought it mere whim at first, but as he walked part of the way back with them toward the village, this asperity continued, nay, increased. Lionel was hurt; he arrested his steps.
"I see you wish to have your grandchild to yourself now. May I call early to-morrow? Sophy will tell you that I hope we may not altogether lose sight of each other. I will give you my address when I call."
"What time to-morrow, Sir?"
"About nine."
Waife bowed his head and walked on, but Sophy looked back toward her boy friend, sorrowfully, gratefully—twilight in the skies that had been so sunny—twilight in her face that had been so glad! She looked once, twice, thrice, as Lionel halted on the road and kissed his hand. The third time Waife said, with unwonted crossness—
"Enough of that, Sophy; looking after young men is not proper! What does he mean about 'seeing each other, and giving me his address?'"
"He wished me to write to him sometimes, and he would write to me."
Waife's brow contracted; but if, in the excess of grandfatherly caution, he could have supposed that the bright-hearted boy of seventeen meditated ulterior ill to that fairy child in such a
