“It would please him to see you.  I went to sit with him yesterday, but Timothy Digfort came in, with the same intent.  So I went to church, having walked in the graveyard till the bell rang.”

“Owl that you are!  I don’t envy you the lively meditations you must have had.  Why don’t you go?  It’s of no use waiting for me.”

“What!  Will you let me carry both these baskets?”

“There, put the little one on the top of the other.  I don’t think three or four peaches and a few flowers can add much to the weight.  It is tiresome enough to do what I don’t want to do, when it is really necessary.”

And Little Handsome danced into the parlor, without perceiving me.  I laid a detaining hand on Etty’s basket as she put herself in motion, on which she turned round with a look of unfeigned astonishment.

“May I not be a substitute for Flora?” I inquired.

“I do not require any aid,” said Miss Etty shyly.  “It is not on that account I was urging Flora.  Please to let me have the basket.—­Indeed, it is quite unnecessary you should trouble yourself,” she insisted, as I persevered in carrying off my load.

“It is the old red house, is it not?” said I, “with the roof sloping almost to the ground.  And shall I say that you sent this?  A view of my strange phiz will not refresh the old people like the sight of Flora’s fresh young face, but I shall go in, and make the agreeable as well as I can.”

“Are you really in earnest?” asked Etty, looking full in my face, with a smile of wonder that made her radiantly beautiful.  She turned away blushing at my surprised and eager gaze, and, taking up her little basket, joined me, without a word of answer on my part.  It was some time before I quite recovered from a strange flurry of spirits, which made my heart bump very much as it does when I hear any unexpected good news.  And then I dashed away upon the subject of old age, and any thing else that came uppermost, in the hope of drawing the soul-lighted eyes to mine again, with that transfiguring smile playing upon the lips.

But I was like an unskilful magician; I had lost the spell; I could not again discover the spring I had touched.  In vain I said to myself, “I’ll make her do it again!” Little Ugly would’nt!

She answered my incoherent sallies in her usual sedate manner, and I believe it was only in my imagination that her cheek dimpled a little, with a heightened color, now and then, when I was particularly eloquent.

Introduced by Miss Etty, I was cordially welcomed.  I am always affected by the sight of an aged woman who at all reminds me of the grandmother so indulgent to my prankful boyhood.  The old man, too, interested me; he has seen much of the world, in his seafaring life, and related his adventures in a most unhackneyed style.  I’ll go and see them every day.  One of the Captain’s anecdotes was very good.  “An old salt,” he said, “once—­once—­” Bah, what was it?  How very lovely Etty looked, sitting on a cricket at the old woman’s feet, and, with a half smile on her face, submitting her polished little head to be stroked by her trembling hands!  This I saw out of the corner of my eye.