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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

'Say you love me, Fancy.'

'No, Dick, certainly not; 'tisn't time to do that yet.'

'Why, Fancy?'

'"Miss Day" is better at present—don't mind my saying so; and I ought not to have called you Dick.'

'Nonsense! when you know that I would do anything on earth for your love. Why, you make any one think that loving is a thing that can be done and undone, and put on and put off at a mere whim.'

'No, no, I don't,' she said gently; 'but there are things which tell me I ought not to give way to much thinking about you, even if—'

'But you want to, don't you? Yes, say you do; it is best to be truthful, Fancy. Whatever they may say about a woman's right to conceal where her love lies, and pretend it doesn't exist, and things like

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