It is not very different from the little children's play--an old rustic sport, I doubt not, that has existed in England from immemorial time. McConkey took the handkerchief first, and, while the company were singing, he pretended to be looking around and puzzling himself to decide whom he would favor with his affection. But the girls nudged one another, and looked significantly at Jemima Huddlestone. Of course, everybody knew that Bill would take Jemima. That was fore-ordained. Everybody knew it except Bill and Jemima! Bill fancied that he was standing in entire indecision, and Jemima--radiant peony!--turned her large, red-cheeked face away from Bill, and studied meditatively a knot in a floor-board. But her averted gaze only made her expectancy the more visible, and the significant titter of the company deepened the hue and widened the area of red in her cheeks. Attempts to seem unconscious generally result disastrously. But the tittering, and nudging, and looking toward Jemima, did not prevent the singing from moving on; and now the singers have reached the line which prescribes the kneeling. Bill shakes off his feigned indecision, and with a sudden effort recovers from his vacant and wandering stare, wheels about, spreads the "handkercher" at the feet of the backwoods Hebe, and diffidently kneels upon the outer edge, while she, in compliance with the order of the play, and with reluctance only apparent, also drops upon her knees on the handkerchief, and, with downcast eyes, receives upon her red cheek a kiss so hearty and unreserved that it awakens laughter and applause. Bill now arises with the air of a man who has done his whole duty under difficult circumstances. Jemima lifts the handkerchief, and, while the song repeats itself, selects some gentleman before whom she kneels, bestowing on him a kiss in the same fashion, leaving him the handkerchief to spread before some new divinity. [Illustration: HOMELY S'MANTHY.]