it necessary that she shall give him herself in return.  Since I arrived at years of discretion, I have always smiled sarcastically at the mention of the generosity of men who were in love; they have seemed to me rather to be asking an immense price for what they offered.  I had no such feeling toward Miss Mayton.  There have been heathens who have offered gifts to goddesses out of pure adoration and without any idea of ever having the exclusive companionship of their favorite divinities.  I never offered Miss Mayton any attention which did not put me into closer sympathy with these same great-souled old Pagans, and with such Christians as follow their good example.  With each new grace my bouquet took on, my pleasure and satisfaction increased at the thought of how she would enjoy the completed evidence of my taste.

At length it was finished, but my delight suddenly became clouded by the dreadful thought, “What will folks say?” Had we been in New York instead of Hillcrest, no one but the florist, his messenger, the lady and myself would know if I sent a bouquet to Miss Mayton; but in Hillcrest, with its several hundred native-born gossips and its acquaintance of everybody with everybody else and their affairs, I feared talk.  Upon the discretion of Mike, the coachman, I could safely rely; I had already confidentially conveyed sundry bits of fractional currency to him, and informed him of one of the parties at our store whose family Mike had known in Old Erin; but every one knew where Mike was employed; every one knew—­ mysterious, unseen and swift are the ways of communication in the country!—­that I was the only gentleman at present residing at Colonel Lawrence’s.  Ah!—­I had it.  I had seen in one of the library-drawers a small pasteboard box, shaped like a band-box—­ doubtless that would hold it.  I found the box—­it was of just the size I needed.  I dropped my card into the bottom,—­no danger of a lady not finding the card accompanying a gift of flowers,—­neatly fitted the bouquet in the center of the box, and went in search of Mike.  He winked cheeringly as I explained the nature of his errand, and he whispered:—­

“I’ll do it as clane as a whistle, yer honor.  Mistress Clarkson’s cook an’ mesilf understhand each other, an’ I’m used to goin’ up the back way.  Dhivil a man can see but the angels, an’ they won’t tell.”

“Very well, Mike; here’s a dollar for you; you’ll find the box on the hat-rack in the hall.”

Half an hour later, while I sat in my chamber window, reading, I beheld Mike, cleanly shaved, dressed and brushed, swinging up the road, with my box balanced on one of his enormous hands.  With a head full of pleasing fancies, I went down to supper.  My new friends were unusually good.  Their ride seemed to have toned down their boisterousness and elevated their little souls; their appetites exhibited no diminution of force, but they talked but little, and all that they said was smart, funny, or startling—­so much so that when, after supper, they invited me to put them to bed, I gladly accepted the invitation.  Toddie disappeared somewhere, and came back very disconsolate.