ideas of love had been pure and shy, and now,could it be true?-she had let her heart go away from her without the asking. She was ashamed, but yet thrilled with new happiness; and no friend to help or sympathize with her, no mother to comfort her; she bent her head on her hands and in a few hurried words asked God to help her and bless her and him. An honest prayer, both heard and answered; but not as she would have had it did the answer come, but in His way and time.

Ruth looked at her shyly and tenderly often. At last she said, "Are you ill, Happy?" "No," was all the answer, except a smile that was both sad and sweet, and Ruth asked no more questions; a native perception and delicacy withheld her, but she could not refrain from many a wistful look at Happy's changing face.

It was reserved for Aunt Lavinia, with her keen tongue and unsparing solicitude for Happy's good, to open the girl's eyes, and show her in what a path she was treading. For Miss Vinny had a deal of the Areopagite spirit, and spent much of her time "either to tell or to hear some new thing;" and what she succinctly termed Happy's "proceedings" had come to her ears in the exchange of gossip about the little town, and grieved her much; for

she was old and astute, and knew all about Fred Park and his habits, and had no faith at all in his temporary reformation. In fact, this world-wise spinster found nothing so hard to believe in as any

reform: it was a page in her record both worn and blotted.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE next Sunday, when Happy came to her little class she found a great bunch of wild honeysuckles waiting for her.

"Say!" shouted Jack.

"Fred Park said I must

fetch them to ye, Miss Happy; them's pinxter bloomies."

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They are very, very pretty," said Happy, stepping into the next room to lay aside her bonnet and speak to Mrs. Packard. Jack waylaid her as she came out, his queer freckled face and sparkling eyes alight with sly mischief.

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Say,―ain't he gettin' sweet on you, ain't Fred? I bet he is."

"Jack!" said Happy, coloring violently, "don't talk in that way; it is not right or proper. I cannot have it."

"Fac' for all that," rejoined the irrepressible boy.

Happy wisely said no more, but began the lesson at once. She was disturbed very much lately by

the discovery that other people knew and talked about her intimacy with Fred Park. It had been a pleasure of her own, so dear, so unacknowledged, that she did not once think it was seen and commented on; and she felt uneasy that the tone of these comments was not altogether respectful to him, but rather pitiful of her. When school was

over, she gathered up her flowers to go, saying quietly to Jack: "Tell Mr. Park I am much obliged to him."

"Well, he was a comin' to fetch 'em hisself," answered the unabashed Jack, "but he had a reg'lar high a Sat'day night; I see him when he come up stairs; can't fool me sayin' he's sick abed to-day. Sho! I guess I know! seen dad too many times!"

Happy did not say anything. She turned away sick at heart, and slowly went over to Miss Vinny's.

"Well, if you haint got a bow-pot now!" exclaimed the old lady, as her guest came in with the sheaf of glowing roseate blooms in her hand. "Don't lay 'em down, Happy, they're dreadful sticky; wait till I fetch a jar for 'em,”—and she brought out of the cupboard an old blue china vase, in which the soft, deep pink blossoms shone resplendent.

"Han'some, ain't they!"

Miss Lavinia's one passion now was for flowers. Her little yard was gay with them all the year; not merely the commonest, but beds of brilliant tulips,

clumps of June lilies, scarlet amaryllis, the great flaming cup of the perennial poppy, deep pansies, spicy carnations, rare roses, rank geraniums; all the result of her skill and care, for the least slip budded, bloomed, and grew to greatness under her deft handling. She surveyed these wild flowers with the sidelong look of a bird, her head on one side and her face beaming. But suddenly she

looked round at Happy.

"Why! what on earth ails ye, child?" she exclaimed. "You're whiter than chalk. Ain't you a doin' too much this weather, Happy?"

"Oh no, Aunt Vinny; the weather is good, I'm sure. I don't feel very well," and Happy burst into tears.

"Well, I am beat now! Come along into the parlor, child, and lay down on the sofy; you're overdone, and you'll feel better when you've rested a spell. I guess we won't go to meetin' to-night; you can lay here on the sofy, an' I'll set in the winder and smell the flowers. That honeysuckle's bu'stin' full of blows, and the dew fetches the smell out." So Happy lay still till tea was ready, her sore heart aching beyond the power of sweet odors or the tranquil summer twilight to soothe. But after tea, when Miss Vinny was safely established in the high-backed chair, she overthrew Happy's brief equanimity directly.