With the coming of summer, then, each white marble step of the Horn mansion, under Malachi's care, shone like a china plate. "Can't hab dese yere young ladies spile dere clean frocks on Malachi's steps--no, sah," he would say; "Marse Oliver'd r'ar an' pitch tur'ble." There were especial reasons this year for these extra touches of rag and brush. Malachi knew "de signs" too well to be deceived. Pretty Sue Clayton, with her soft eyes and the mass of ringlets that framed her face, had now completely taken possession of Oliver's heart, and the old servant already had been appointed chief of the postal service--two letters a day sometimes with all the verbal messages in between. This love-affair, which had begun in the winter, was not yet of so serious a nature as to cause distress or unhappiness to either one of their respective houses, nor had it reached a point where suicide or an elopement were all that was left. It was, in truth, but a few months old, and so far the banns had not been published. Within the last week Miss Sue had been persuaded "to wait for him--" that was all. She had not, it is true, burdened her gay young heart with the number of years of her patience. She and Oliver were sweethearts--that was enough for them both. As proof of it, was she not wearing about her neck at the very moment a chain which he had fashioned for her out of cherry-stones; and had she not given him in return one of those same ringlets, and had she not tied it with a blue ribbon herself? And above all--and what could be more conclusive--had she not taken her hair down to do it, and let him select the very tress that pleased him best?--and was not this curl, at that very moment, concealed in a pill-box and safely hidden in his unlocked bureau-drawer, where his mother saw it with a smile the last time she put away his linen? This love-affair--as were the love-affairs of all the other young people--was common gossip around Kennedy Square. Had there been any doubts about it, it would only have been necessary to ask any old Malachi, or Hannah; or Juno. They could have given every detail of the affair, descanting upon all its joys and its sorrows. Sweet girls of the days gone by, what crimes some of you have to answer for! At least one of you must remember how my own thumb was cut into slits over these same cherry-stones, and why the ends of your ringlets were tucked away in a miniature box in my drawer, with the pressed flowers and signet-ring, and the rest of it. And you could--if you would--recall a waiting promise made to me years and years ago. And the wedding! Surely you have not forgotten that. I was there, you remember--but not as the groom. On one particular evening in June--an evening that marked an important stage in the development of Oliver's fortunes--the front porch, owing to Malachi's attentions, was in spotless condition--steps, knocker, and round silver knobs.