have done.  I just went along and took things as they came, and the first thing I knew I was in love myself, and from the words of his mouth concerning the meditations of his heart he seemingly has recovered from a former attack and is in for a new one.  Maybe we were not as considerate of the rejecter as we might have been.  Of course, I never knew for a long time why the engagement was broken.  He didn’t tell me and no one else seemed to know, and when I found out—­ But that was a long time after—­when I found out.

His name is Whythe Rives Eppes.  The only things I don’t like about him are his front teeth and his relations.  He could get three new teeth, but nothing in human power could rid him of his relatives.  There are four of them—­Mother, Sister, Sister Edwina, and Miss Lily Lou, and may God have mercy on the girl who marries the male member of the family and goes into their home to live!  He is a perfectly grand sort to be in love with, and I am almost sure I am in love or I wouldn’t feel so thrilly when I see him coming.  But being in love is one thing and getting married is a very different other, and there isn’t a man person living I want to think of marrying yet.  It’s awfully interesting, too, to learn the different ways in which love can be made.  Twickenham Town may be slow about many things, but in others it is so quick it takes your breath away.  Whythe became personal in conversation the fourth time I was with him.  It was at the Braxtons’ party and conditions were favorable, but, not expecting the turn that was taken, I was as excited as if I had never heard remarks of a similar character before, and the first thing I knew I had promised Whythe (he begged me to call him Whythe) to go horseback-riding with him the next day.  We went—­I on Skylark, who is the joy of my life, and he on a borrowed horse, and we had a perfectly wonderful time.  I don’t think Whythe will ever be much of a lawyer, but as a love-maker he hasn’t an equal on earth—­that is, any I have ever heard.

As we rode down the main street of Twickenham everybody in the town seemed on it.  Princess Street is the only one called by a name, though of course the others have names, and it is the place where everybody meets everybody else and learns all the news; and if anybody went to sleep that night without knowing that Whythe and I had started on a ride at ten o’clock in the morning and didn’t get back until three it was because that person was too deaf to hear and couldn’t understand the movement of lips.  I didn’t know I was doing anything I oughtn’t, and if I did it I am not sorry.  I had a grand time.  It was a gorgeous day and cool enough for me to wear my brown-linen riding-habit and high boots, which, with a stock collar and small sailor hat, made me look real nice, and the way the people stared at me you would have thought they had never seen a divided skirt before, and—­oh, my granny!—­the faces of the family (Whythe’s family) as we passed their house!  I smiled the politest and properest I knew and they bowed back, but in a way that made me laugh out loud when out of sight, and so did Whythe.  And then we forgot them, forgot everything except it was awfully good to be alive.