“Indeed, Miss Vosburgh,” was the conclusion of his rather long preliminaries, “you must not run away soon again.  June days may be charming under any circumstances, but your absence certainly insures dull June evenings.”

“You are burdening your conscience without deceiving me,” the young girl replied, demurely, “and should not so wrong yourself.  Mamma said that you were very entertaining, and that last evening was a delightful one.  It could scarcely be otherwise.  It is natural that people of the same age should be congenial.  I will call mamma at once.”

“I beg you will not,—­at least not just yet.  I have something to say to which I trust you will listen kindly and favorably.  Do you think me so very old?”

“No older than you have a perfect right to be, Mr. Lanniere,” said the girl, laughing.  “I can think of no reason for your reproachful tone.”

“Let me give you one then.  Your opinions are of immense importance to me.”

“Truly, Mr. Lanniere, this is strange beyond measure, especially as I am too young to have formed many opinions.”

“That fact only increases my admiration and regard One must reach my years in order to appreciate truly the dewy freshness of youth.  The world is a terra incognita to you yet, and your opinions of life are still to be formed.  Let me give you a chance to see the world from lofty, sunny elevations.”

“I am too recently from my geography not to remember that while elevations may be sunny they are very cold,” was the reply, with a charming little shiver.  “Mont Blanc has too much perspective.”

“Do not jest with me or misunderstand me, Miss Vosburgh,” he said, impressively.  “There is a happy mean in all things.”

“Yes, Mr. Lanniere, and the girl who means to be happy should take care to discover it.”

“May it not be discovered for her by one who is better acquainted with life?  In woman’s experience is not happiness more often thrust upon her than achieved?  I, who know the world and the rich pleasures and triumphs it affords to one who, in the military phrase of the day, is well supported, can offer you a great deal,—­more than most men, I assure you.”

“Why, Mr. Lanniere,” said the young girl, looking at him with demure surprise, “I am perfectly contented and happy.  No ambition for triumphs is consuming me.  What triumphs?  As for pleasure, each day brings all and more than I deserve.  Young as one may be, one can scarcely act without a motive.”

“Then I am personally nothing to you?” he said stiffly, and rising.

“Pardon me, Mr. Lanniere.  I hope my simple directness may not appear childish, but it seems to me that I have met your suggestions with natural answers; What should you be to me but an agreeable friend of mamma’s?”