"But I must, and will," said he; "I can't wait no longer. Kitty, there's only one thing in all the world that I care for, and that is to know—Kitty, hear me—one moment, Kitty—I want you to promise that you'll be my wife some day. Won't you?" But I snatched my dress from his hand, and set off running. "Oh, not yet! not yet!" I cried. I had a sort of feeling that some day perhaps it might come about, because I knew father and mother were so fond of Rupert, and Rupert's mother and sisters were so fond of me. I didn't know, though, whether I was willing myself, and anyway I meant to keep my girlhood a little longer. "Oh, not yet! Nothing of that sort yet!" I cried. Poor Rupert was not the lover I had secretly pictured to myself. I suppose most girls have their little dreams, and I had mine, though I did not waste time reading trashy tales, like many girls, for mother never allowed it. Still I had my little dream, and there was a hero in the dream,—somebody tall and handsome and straight and nice-mannered,— not like Rupert, with his round shoulders, and his shuffling walk, and his slow speech, and his good plain face. I did not want to distress him by saying "No," outright; and I could not make up my mind to say "Yes." So I only called out, "Oh, not yet!" and ran away. Rupert did not try to overtake me. Mother was in-doors, mending a coat of father's, when I reached home; and standing in the doorway was one of our neighbours, Mrs. Hammond,— a widow with a lot of children. She was a hardworking woman, and deserving in many ways; but she was a great talker, and mother couldn't bear her. If she had not been very good-natured, she would not often have come to our cottage, for as sure as ever she came she had a snubbing or a cold shoulder. But I liked Mrs. Hammond, because she was so fond of me. I think I was ready to like anybody in those days, who would give me love, or who would even say pretty things. That's maybe better than to be of a morose habit, caring for nobody; but it has its dangers. I had a loving little heart, and it was easy won, and I was easy led. When I saw Mrs. Hammond's broad figure in our doorway, with her short skirt looped up, and the black strings of her bonnet falling loose, and one arm held akimbo, as she commonly liked to stand, I made haste to get in before she should leave, and as soon as she set eyes on me, she exclaimed,— "Here comes our village beauty!" "Kitty's not such a goose as to believe that," mother says, very short. "It wasn't I who said it first, I can tell you that," Mrs. Hammond replied. "It was Lady Arthur." "Stuff and nonsense!" says my mother. "But it was; and I'm telling you the truth. You don't think I'd make up such a thing, do you?" asked Mrs. Hammond.