“To see my girl and tell her what a good old boy you are,” said Paul, laughing as he went away. “Bless his young heart; just like his fadder when a boy. How I lobe him. If he only knowed what I does, how sad he would be. I can neber tell him, but will watch all the same;” thus mused Pompey as he went out to see if everything was all right, before retiring. Paul rode quickly down the road and soon Hilton’s fine farm was in sight. As he passed slowly by the house he heard someone singing. He stopped and listened, and these words came floating out on the evening breeze: But drops of grief can e’er repay The debt of love I owe. Here, Lord, I give myself away— ’Tis all that I can do. As the sound of the sweet voice died away, he rode off saying, “It is her voice, and it sounds as melancholy as it did down by the lake.” His whole soul seemed to go out to her; his heart was beating violently, as the words just uttered seemed to echo through his whole being. “Can such bliss ever be mine to enjoy? If I can only win the little girl I saw today, I shall be the happiest man on earth.” Thus the young man mused until the village was in sight. He rode up to one of the principal stores, when Ralph Harding, an old chum, came up to him saying, “Paul, have you had a bid to Hilton’s to a party Friday night?” Not waiting for an answer he said: “I have, and I am going too. They say there is going to be a New York girl there, and won’t we have jolly fun. She will call us ‘moss backs’ and stick up her nose at us. They say she is so aristocratic that a fellow can’t talk with her, even. Anyway, I am going up to see her.” Paul stayed to hear no more, as he said: “You had better stay away from there or keep your foolish clack to yourself, as no decent man would talk as you do about a person he never saw.” “Perhaps you have seen her and fallen in love with her, as you speak in such high terms of her,” answered Ralph, winking knowingly. “I have never had the honor of seeing her as I know of. What would Warren Hilton say if he heard what you say about his cousin? He would take you for less than a gentleman,” said Paul, springing lightly on his horse. “I don’t know and I don’t care; better go and tell him,” said Ralph in a sneering tone. “Sir,” answered Paul, “it is a very foolish plan to strike a fool, or I would pitch you in the street,” springing from his horse down on the sidewalk as he said: “Ralph, you and I have never had any words before, and it is very strange we should now, over a stranger; yet I cannot hear you speak ill of a woman you know no harm of. I never heard you speak so hateful before of anyone. Why should you now, Ralph?” “I don’t know,” said Ralph meekly. “I will take it all back, and we will be friends as of yore if you choose.”