The reflections caused by these words were not pleasant. It was possible that when his thoughts were dwelling on his own painful experience his manner might be reticent. "If they consider me proud," was his reflection, "how little they know me! Why, I would exchange gladly with those rough boys playing ball yonder, if by doing so I would get rid of these harrowing memories. Well, I owe my thanks to the woman, though I suppose she scarcely intended that I should hear her criticisms." Then he began to wonder who the shop girl could be. She was so evidently out of place there; and what caused her mirth? Alone as he was, he laughed heartily as he recalled the dimpled curves around that arch mouth, and wondered whether there had been any reason personal to himself which brought these dimples into such full play. Letting himself into the house by his night-key, he went directly to his chamber, where he remained until summoned by the bell to the tea-table. Ethel, at sound of his step, rushed to the door to meet him, her voice ringing joyously as she exclaimed,— "My Marion has come! I'll show her to you." Pulling him eagerly forward, she brought him face to face again with— the shop girl; stood for an instant gazing at them, then, in the fulness of her content, and wishing to give one grand proof of her love, she added,— "I'll let you kiss her if you want to." A burst of laughter followed, during which Mr. Angus had time to catch the little girl in his arms and whisper something in her ear, Marion, meanwhile, growing very rosy as she waited for a formal introduction from her uncle. "My niece, Miss Howard, Rev. Mr. Angus, our pastor." The gentleman cordially extended his hand. Their eyes met and they both laughed. After they were seated at the table, Marion, who was sitting next her uncle and opposite the clergyman, with a merry glance in his direction, explained:— "I have met Mr. Angus before." "Where did you meet him? In the city?" "I had the pleasure of purchasing a pair of gloves from the store where Miss Howard is employed. I have tried on the gloves since," he added, glancing archly in her blushing face, "and I assure you they fit extremely well." Marion threw back her head and laughed heartily, and as mirth is more contagious than any fever, all present joined in the mirth, though there were loud calls for an explanation. "It is only," she said, "that I called on my way from the depot to see Mary Falkner, and as her mother was very busy, I offered to sit by Mary's bed while she finished her washing. Some one came into the shop. Mrs. Falkner was in the clothes-yard, and did not hear, and I at last went forward, supposing, of course, that I should be called on for a spool of thread or a paper of pins.