“Did you want to see me very much, Verty?”

“Yes, indeed; I didn’t know how much I liked you,” said the boy, with his ingenuous laugh; “the woods didn’t look right, and I was always thinking about you.”

Redbud colored slightly, but this soon disappeared, and she laughed in that low, joyous, musical tone, which characterized her.

“There it is!” said Verty, going through the same ceremony; “that’s one thing I missed.”

“What?”

“Your laughing!”

“Indeed!” Redbud said.

“Yes, indeed.  I declare, on my word, that I would rather hear you laugh, than listen to the finest mocking-bird in the world.”

“You are very gallant!” said Miss Redbud.

“Anan?” said Verty.

“I mean you are very friendly to me, Verty,” said Redbud, with a bright look at his frank face.

“Why, what have I done?  I hav’nt done anything for you, for ages.  Let me see—­can’t I do something now?  Oh yes, there are some flowers, and I can make a nice wreath!”

And Verty ran and gathered an armful of primroses, marigolds, and golden rods; some late roses, too, and so returned to Redbud.

“Now come to the arbor here—­it’s just like the Apple Orchard one—­come, and I’ll make you a crown.”

“Oh!  I don’t deserve it,” laughed the young girl.

Verty smiled.

“Yes, you do,” he said, “for you are my queen.”

And he went and sat down upon the trellised bench, and began weaving a wreath of the delicate yellow autumn primroses and other flowers.

Redbud sat down and watched him.

Placed thus, they presented a singular contrast, and, together, formed a picture, not wanting in a wild interest—­Verty, clothed in his forest costume of fur and beads, his long, profusely-curling hair hanging upon his shoulders, and his swarthy cheeks, round, and reddened with health, presented rather the appearance of an Indian than an Anglo-Saxon—­a handsome wild animal rather than a pleasant young man.  Redbud’s face and dress were in perfect contrast with all this—­she was fair, with that delicate rose-color, which resembles the tender flush of sunset, in her cheeks; her hair was brushed back from her forehead, and secured behind with a large bow of scarlet ribbon; her dress was of rich silk, with hanging sleeves; a profusion of yellow lace, and a dozen rosettes affixed to the dress, in front, set off the costume admirably, and gave to the young girl that pretty attractive toute ensemble which corresponded with her real character.

As she followed Verty’s movements, the frank little face wore a very pleasant smile, and at times she would pick up and hand to him a leaf or a bud, which attention he rewarded with a smile in return.

At last the wreath was finished, and, rising up, Verty placed it on Redbud’s forehead.

“How nicely it fits,” he said; “who would have imagined that my awkward fingers could have done it?”