Disappointed in this, the pedlar brought out his minor “articles;” and here he was more successful.  Mr. Ashley bought sufficiently for his young lady friends at the seminary, he said, and Redbud and Fanny both purchased little things.

Fanny bought the most splendid glass breastpin, which she pretended, with a merry laugh, to admire “to distraction.”  Redbud, without knowing very well why, bought a little red coral necklace, which looked bright and new, and rattled merrily as she took it; for some reason the pedlar parted with it for a very small sum, and then somewhat hastily packed up his goods, and ducking his head in thanks, went on his way.

“Look what a very handsome breastpin I have!” said Fanny, as they returned through the garden; “I’m sure nobody would know that it is not a diamond.”

“You are right,” said Mr. Ashley, smiling, “the world is given to judging almost wholly from outward appearances.  And what did you purchase, Miss Summers—­or Miss Redbud, if you will permit me—­”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said Redbud, looking at him with her kind, sad eyes, “you need’nt be ceremonious with me.  Besides, you’re Fanny’s cousin.  I bought this necklace—­I thought it old-fashioned and pretty.”

Redbud was silent again, her eyes bent quietly upon the walk, the long lashes reposing thus upon the tender little cheeks.

“Old-fashioned and pretty,” said the young man, with a smile, “did you not make a mistake there, Miss Redbud?”

“No, sir—­I meant it,” she said, raising her eyes simply to his own.  “I think old-fashioned things are very often prettier and more pleasant than new ones.  Don’t you?”

“I do!” cried Fanny; “I’m sure my great grandmother’s diamond breastpin is much handsomer than this horrid thing!”

And the young lady tore the pinchbeck jewel from her neck.

Mr. Ashley laughed.

“There’s your consistency,” he said; “just now you thought nothing could be finer.”

Miss Fanny vehemently opposed this view of her character at great length, and with extraordinary subtilty.  We regret that the exigencies of our narrative render it impossible for us to follow her—­we can only state that the result, as on all such occasions, was the total defeat of the cavalier.  Mr. Ralph Ashley several times stated his willingness to subscribe to any views, opinions or conclusions which Miss Fanny desired him to, and finally placed his fingers in his ears.

Fanny greeted this manoeuvre with a sudden blow in the laugher’s face, from her bouquet; and Redbud, forgetting her disquietude, laughed gaily at the merry cousins.

So they entered, and met the bevy of young school girls on the portico, with whom Mr. Ralph Ashley, in some manner, became instantaneously popular:  perhaps partly on account of the grotesque presents he scattered among them, with his gay, joyous laughter.  After thus making himself generally agreeable, he looked at the setting sun, and said he must go.  He would, however, soon return, he said, to see his dearest Fanny, the delight of his existence.  And having made this pleasant speech, he went away on his elegant horse, laughing, good-humored, and altogether a very pleasing, graceful-looking cavalier, as the red sunset showered upon his rich apparel and his slender charger all its wealth of ruddy, golden light.