"Oh!--why good morning." She was delightfully cordial. "Did you want to see me?" he asked. "Mr. Ravenel thought you did." Fannie raised her brows and laughed. "Why, really, Mr. Ravenel oughtn't to carry his thinking to such an excess. Still, I'm not sorry for the mistake--unless you are." She glanced at him archly. "Come on," she softly added, "I do want to see you." XX. FANNIE SUGGESTS "Don't look so gruesome." She laughed. John walked stiffly, frowned, and tried to twist the down on his upper lip. When only fenced and gardened dwellings were about them she spoke again. "John, I'm unhappy." "You, Miss Fannie?" "Yes. As I passed you, you were standing right where you fell five years ago. For three days I've been thinking how deep in debt to you I've been ever since, and--how I've disappointed you." The youth made no answer. He felt as if he would give ten years of his life to kneel at her feet with his face in her hands and whisper, "Pay me a little love." She laid her arm on her cottage gate, turned her face away, and added, "And now you're disappointing me." "I've got a right to know how, Miss Fannie, haven't I?" Fannie's averted face sank lower. Suddenly she looked fondly up to him and nodded. "Come, sit on the steps a minute"--she smiled--"and I'll pick you a rose." She skipped away. As she was returning her father came out. "Why, howdy, Johnnie--Fan, I reckon I'll go to the office." "You promised me you wouldn't!" "Well, I'm better since I took some quinine. How's y' father, Johnnie?" "Sir? Oh, she's not very well. She craves acids, and--Oh!--Father? he's very--I ain't seen him in a right smart while, sir. He's been sort o' puny for----" "Sorry," said the General, and was gone. Fannie held the rose. "Thank you," said John, looking from it to the kindness in her eye. But she caressed the flower and shook her head. "It's got thorns," she said, significantly, as she sat down on a step. "Yes, I understand. I'll take it so." "I don't know. I'm afraid you'll not want it when"--she laid it to her lips--"when I tell you how you've disappointed me." "Yes, I will. For--oh! Miss Fannie----" "What, John?" "You needn't tell me at all. I know it already. And I'm going to change it. You shan't be disappointed. I've learned an awful lot in these last three days--and these last three hours. I've done my last sentimentalizing. I--I'm sure I have. I'll be too good for it, or else too bad for it! I'll always love you, Miss Fannie, even when you're not--Miss Fannie any more; but I'll never come using round you and bothering you with my--feelings." He jerked out his handkerchief, but wiped only his cap--with slow care. "As to that, John, I shouldn't blame you if you should hate me." "I can't, Miss Fannie. I've not done hating, I'm afraid, but I couldn't hate you--ever. You can't conceive how sweet and good you seem to anyone as wicked as I've been--and still am." "You don't know what I mean, John."