ething in the very feelings at this time of the year that makes you want to write pretty things, whether you know what you want to say or not. So I have got out my diary and du

introduced to her, a man from her same city which had got on the train and followed her down here. She was a lovely, high-heeled, fluffy-petticoated kind of a widow and I could have written chapters out of her I know; bec

disappointed I was over not getting to meet

look coming over her face that always does when she begins to brag on herself. "They don't cou't; they marries

end the money that the divorce would cost in beautifying herself so she can marry again. She says she wants to buy her a stylish set of b

ry book o' yourn, neither, for your gran'chillen to be

y, not dairy, but she

rrow of that pesky little book that's always gettin' lost and me havin' to find it." And I couldn't blame her very much for this, me being a great hand myself to

awake till twelve o'clock of a night telling secrets to. Of course men never tell secrets, but they often need a kindred spirit, that is, a close friend, especially when they get so sick they think they're about to die they want

od night every night, which I never would have done in the daylight. At night things just seem to tell themselves, although you are very sorry for

r's side. They are down here to spend the summer and are boarding close to our house. There is another boarder in the house for the summer which is named Mr. St. John, and Jean says if they had named him Angel i

e great secret of her life (as if I hadn't guessed it the minute she called Mr. St. John's name.) She hasn't got much appetite and the smell of honeysuckle fills her with strange longings. She says she either wants t

d to talk to somebody about how spiritual Mr. St. John

don didn't laugh at her. Then, before I could comfort her, she had dropped down by the iris bed and was t

p a handful of the purple irises,

on telling me what big pearl buttons the white vest had on it and how Mr. St. John said "i-ther and ni-ther," and how broken her heart was. She said she

at was just where the trouble came in. She knew she could win his love if she once got a chance at him; but no matter how early she got up of a morning to go and sit with him on the porch before breakfast, which was a habit of his, he would just ask her how far along she was in geography and if she didn't think algebra was easier than arithmetic, and such insulting que

Venice and was getting ready to start on Hamlet when Miss Wilburn left. She said well, he remarked "words, words, words," but he didn't know

ouldn't think of a word that he wanted to finish up a song with. He studied over it for about three mon

to have her head bumped once for every word, if she could just

ything interesting going on; and she had heard him tell Miss Merle that she mustn't "condemn the precipitation, but rather consider how he could do otherwise." Then he had made use of a word that she never heard of before in her life. It was pro-pin-qui-ty; and Miss Merle's face had turned as red as tomatoes when he said it. She said if it was a love word

ctionate nature, of course liked the idea, so I ran right over to tell Jean, who was simply carried away. She said it would be such a relief to her to see the face of her beloved reflected in the well; but I told her that to see any face would mean that she was going to get a husband, which a girl ought to be thankful for, and not get her heart set on any particular

ell, and it seemed to us that the time never would come. There is a very old well down in our pasture close by the fence which ain't cov

, because they become you so, and Miss Merle looke

ly a soul-just mother and mammy and Mrs. Everett and the lady they board with and her married daughter,

e our husband if he was there. They said for me to go first as it was my well, but I said no, they must go first, because they were company, but Miss Mer

bonnet down low over my eyes to shut out any view except what was i

gs in this life don't; but now I believe it's so. While I couldn't make out his face very well and don't know whether his eyes are blue or brown, and his nose R

couldn't tell whether he smiled at me or not; but I remembered my man

hing happening that made me feel like I was in a fairy tale. I saw those lilac bushes move and the next thing I knew there was Mr. St. John. Not in a white vest, it's true, but looking beautiful enough, even in the daylight. He mot

l she gave one overjoyed scream an

e, her voice sounding very deep and hollow, but joyful.

from the first; but when Jean looked up and saw him he looked at her so sweet that you

ffectionate look, although he is usually very timid and dignified, "but the fact is-ma

she would every bit as soon have it that way, he

t there in the pasture that I told them I heard

ll about it and was feeling strong enough

nute he said uncle my love changed. Why, Ann, an uncle is an old person, almost like a grandpa! Anyway