Part 10 (2/2)

”'Course She does!” exclaimed the Little Lover, with sudden conviction, and the struggle was ended. It had only been a question of Her liking or not liking. That decided, there was no further hesitation. He held up the licorice-stick and traced a wavery little line round it with his finger-nail. The line was pretty near one of its ends--the end towards the Little Lover's mouth.

”I'll suck as far down as that, just 'xactly,” he said; ”then I'll put it away in the Treasury Box.”

He sat down in his little rocker and gave himself up to the moment's bliss, first applying his lips with careful exact.i.tude to the dividing-line between Her licorice stick and his.

The moment of bliss ended, the Little Lover got out the Treasury Box and added the moist, shortened licorice-stick to the other treasures in it. There were many of them,--an odd a.s.sortment that would have made any one else smile. But the Little Lover was not smiling. His small face was grave first, then illumined with the light of willing sacrifice. The treasures were all so beautiful! She would be so pleased,--my, _my_, how please She would be! Of course She would like the big golden alley the best,--the very best. But the singing-top was only a tiny little way behind in its power to charm. Perhaps She had never seen a singing-top--think o' that! Perhaps She had never had a great golden alley, or a corkscrew jack-knife, or a canary-bird whistle, or a red and white ”Kandy Kiss,”--or a licorice-stick! Think o' that--think of how pleased She would be!

”'Course She will,” laughed the Little Lover in his delight. If he only dared to give Her the Treasury Box! If he only knew how! If there was somebody he could ask,--but the housekeeper was too old, and Uncle Larry would laugh. There was n.o.body.

The waiting wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the red-cheeked pear in the Treasury Box, and the softest apple. They made it a little dang'rous to wait.

It had not been very long that he had loved Her. The first Sunday that She smiled at him across the aisle was the beginning. He had not gone to sleep that Sunday, nor since, on any of the smiling Sundays.

He had not wanted to. It had been rest enough to sit and watch Her from the safe shelter of the housekeeper's silken cloak. Her clear, fresh profile, Her pretty hair, Her ear, Her throat--he liked to watch them all. It was rest enough,--as if, after that, he could have gone to sleep!

She was very tall, but he liked her better for that. He meant to be tall some day. Just now he did not reach-- But he did not wish to think of that. It troubled him to remember that Sunday that he had measured himself secretly beside Her, as the people walked out of church. It made him blush to think how very little way he had ”reached.” He had never told any one, but then he never told any one anything. Not having any mother, and your father being away all the time, and the housekeeper being old, and your uncle Larry always laughing, made it diff'rent 'bout telling things. Of course if you had 'em--mothers, and fathers that stayed at home, and uncles that didn't laugh,--but you didn't. So you 'cided it was better not to tell things.

One Sunday the Little Lover thought he detected Uncle Larry watching Her too. But he was never quite certain sure. Anyway, when She had turned Her beautiful head and smiled across the aisle, it had been at _him_. The Little Lover was ”certain sure” of that! In his shy little way he had smiled back at Her and nodded. The warmth had kept on in his heart all day. That was the day before he found out the Important Thing.

Out in the front hall after supper he came upon a beautiful, tantalizing smell that he failed for some time to locate. He went about with his little nose up-tilted, in a persistent search. It was such a beautiful smell!--not powerful and oversweet, but faint and wonderful. The little nose searched on patiently till it found it.

There was a long box on the hall-table and the beautiful smell came out under the lid and met the little, up-tilted nose half-way.

”I've found it! It's inside o' that box!” the Little Lover cried in triumph. ”Now I guess I better see what it looks like. Oh! why, it's _posies!_” For there, in moist tissue wrappings, lay a cl.u.s.ter of marvellous pale roses, breathing out their subtle sweetness into the little face above them.

”Why, I didn't know _that_ was the way a beautiful smell looked!

I--it's very nice, isn't it? If it's Uncle Larry's, I'm goin' to ask him-- Oh, Uncle Larry, can I have it? Can I? I want to put it in Her--” But he caught himself up before he got quite to ”Treasury Box.” He could not tell Uncle Larry about that.

The tall figure coming down the hall quickened its steps to a leap towards the opened box on the table. Uncle Larry's face was flushed, but he laughed--he always laughed.

”You little 'thafe o' the wurruld'!” he called out. ”What are you doing with my roses?”

”I want 'em--please,” persisted the child, eagerly, thinking of the Treasury Box and Her.

”Oh, you do, do you? But they're not for the likes o' you.”

Sudden inspiration came to the Little Lover. If this was a Treasury Box,--if he were right on the edge of finding out how you gave one--

”Is--is it for a She?” he asked, breathless with interest.

”A--'She'?” laughed Uncle Larry, but something as faint and tender as the beautiful smell was creeping into his face. ”Yes, it is for a She, Reggie,--the most beautiful She in the world,” he added, gently.

He was wrapping the beautiful smell again in the tissue wrappings.

Then it was a Treasury Box. Then you did the treasures up that way, in thin, rattly paper like that. _Then_ what did you do? But he would find out.

”Oh, I didn't know,” he murmured. ”I didn't know _that_ was the way!

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