with regard to Wollaston.  She did not in reality think of Evelyn as old enough to have any dreams at all which need be considered seriously, and least of all about Wollaston Lee.  She nodded to a young man, younger than herself, who was in Evelyn’s class at the academy, who sat across the aisle, and he returned the nod eagerly.  He was well grown, and handsome, and looked as old as Maria herself.  Presently as the car began to fill up, he crossed the aisle, and asked if he might sit beside her.  Maria made room at once.  She smiled at the young fellow with her smile which belonged in reality to another man, and he took it for himself.  Perhaps nothing on earth is so misappropriated as smiles and tears.  The seat was quite narrow.  It was necessary to sit rather close, in any event, but presently Maria felt the boy’s broad shoulder press unmistakably against hers.  She shrank away with an imperceptible motion.  She did not feel so much angry as amused at the thought that this great boy should be making love to her, when all her heart was with some one else, when she could not even give him a pleasant look which belonged wholly to him.  Maria leaned against the window, and gazed out at the flying shadows.  “I am glad it is so pleasant,” she said in a perfectly unconcerned voice.

“Yes, so am I,” the boy replied, but his voice shook with emotion.  Maria thought again how ridiculous it was.  Then suddenly she reflected that this might not be on her account but Evelyn’s.  She thought that the boy might be trying to ingratiate himself with her on her sister’s account.  She felt at once indignation and a sense of pity.  She was sure that Evelyn had never thought of him.  She glanced at the boy’s handsome, manly face, which, although manly, wore still an expression of ingenuousness like a child’s.  She reflected that if Evelyn were to marry when she were older, that perhaps this was a good husband for her.  The boy came of one of the best families in Amity.  She turned towards him smiling.

“Evelyn was very much disappointed that she could not come to-night,” she said.

The boy brightened visibly at her tone.

“She has a very severe cold,” Maria added.

“I am sorry,” said the boy.  Then he said in a low tone whose boldness and ardor were unmistakable, that it did not make any difference to him who was there as long as she was.  Maria could scarcely believe her ears.  She gave the boy a keen, incredulous glance, but he was not daunted.  “I mean it,” he said.

“Nonsense,” said Maria.  She looked out of the window again.  She told herself that it was annoying but too idiotic to concern herself with.  She made up her mind that when they changed trolleys she would try to find a seat with some one else.  But when they changed she found the boy again beside her.  She was quite angry then, and made no effort to disguise it.  She sat quite still, gazing out of the window, shrugged against it as closely as she was able to sit, and said nothing.  However, her face resumed its happy smile when she thought again of Wollaston, and the boy thought the smile meant for him.  He leaned over her tenderly.