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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

'Very well; I'll come in in a quarter of an hour.'

'Why go away?'

'I may as well.'

He went out, walked down the road, and sat upon a gate. Here he meditated and meditated, and the more he meditated, the more decidedly did he begin to fume, and the more positive was he that his time had been scandalously trifled with by Miss Fancy Day—that, so far from being the simple girl who had never had a sweetheart before, as she had solemnly assured him time after time, she was, if not a flirt, a woman who had had no end of admirers; a girl most certainly too anxious about her dresses; a girl whose feelings, though warm, were not deep; a girl who cared a great deal too much how she appeared in the eyes of other men. 'What she loves best in the world,' he thought, with an incipient

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