I hardly know whether he had any object in passing Capt. Thompson’s, but he certainly did so, bowing graciously and showing his white teeth to Dell, who, from a chamber window, looked haughtily down upon me, and as I afterwards learned, made fun of my pink sun-bonnet and little yellow dotted shawl. The sight of her naturally led him to speak of her, and much to my surprise, he asked me how I liked her! I could not answer truthfully and say “very well;” so I replied that “I hardly knew her. She was very fine looking, and I presumed she was very intelligent and accomplished.” “You are a good-hearted little girl, Rose,” said he, “to speak thus of her. Do you suppose _she_ would do the same by you if asked a similar question?” “Oh, no,” I answered, eagerly, “she couldn’t say I was fine looking. Nobody ever said that.” “If I should tell you that _I_ think you better looking than Dell Thompson, what would you say?” he asked, looking under my bonnet, while, with glowing cheeks, I turned my head away, and replied, “I am sure you would not mean it. I know I am ugly, but I do not care so much about it now as I used to.” There was a silence for some minutes, and when he spoke again, it was of faces, which, without regularity of features or brilliancy of complexion, still had an expression exceedingly pleasing and attractive. “I do not say yours is such a face,” said he, “for I never flatter; but I _do_ say, and I mean it, too, that I like your looks far better than I do Miss Thompson’s. If I had cried then, as I wished to, I should have done a most foolish thing; but by a strong effort of the will, I forced down my tears, and changing the conversation, commenced talking on subjects quite foreign to Dell Thompson, or good looks. I found Dr. Clayton a most agreeable companion, and ere the close of that ride, he was “all the world” to me. In short, I suppose I was as much in love as a child of thirteen can well be, and when we at last reached home and I introduced him to my mother and sisters, I blushed like a guilty thing, stealing out of the room as soon as possible, and staying out for a long time, although I wanted so much to be back there with him. “Catched a beau, hain’t you? and a handsome one, too!” said Sally, applying her eye to the key-hole and thus obtaining a view of his face. Tommy Trimmer, a little boy, five years of age, who lived near by, and who chanced to be there, overheard her, and when Dr. Clayton, who was very fond of children, coaxed him into his lap, he asked, pointing to me, “Be you Rosa’s beau? Sally said you was!” The doctor laughed aloud, referring Tommy to me for an answer, and telling him “it was just as I said.” “Rose is altogether too young to be riding round with beaux. It will give her a bad name,” said grandma, when at last the doctor was gone.