"
"Upon your word?"
"Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself."
"Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell me
how you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know."
This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman and
boy were.
On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. "THE
MAWKISH" is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I have
neglected it savagely.
Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before him
where to choose.
He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror!
it was all buttercups and deil a cowslip.
Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of that
delightful flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and he
gathered a double handful and dirtied his knees.
Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by a
fluty voice.
"Little boy!"
He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a little
wooden gate painted white, looking over.
_"Please_ bring me my ball," said she, pathetically.
Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near.
He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave it
her with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed a
little, because he did.
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