"_Silv' Ann!_" contemptuously. "I 'clare, M'ria, I b'lieve you 's jealous-hearted. No, indeedy! I know I run 'roun' wid Silv' Ann awhile back, jes to pass de time, but she can't name none o' my boats! No; ef you won't guess, I'll tell yer--dat is, I'll give you a hint. She named for my best gal! _Now guess!_" "I never was no hand at guessin'." The girl laughed while she tossed her head. "Heah, take dis oah, man, an' lemme walk free. I ain't ingaged to tote no half-load _yit_--as I knows on. Lordy, but dat heavy paddle done put my whole arm to sleep. Ouch! boy. Hands off tell de pins an' needles draps out. I sho' is glad to go rowin' on de water to-night." So sure was she now of her lover, and of the honor which he tossed as a ball in his hands, never letting her quite see it, that she whimsically put away the subject. She had been to school several summers and could decipher a good many words, but most surely, from proud practice, she could spell her own name. As they presently climbed the levee together, she remarked, seeing the water: "Whar is de boat, anyhow--de What-you-may-call-it? She ain't in sight--not heah!" "No; she's a little piece up de current--in de willer-clump. I didn't want nobody foolin' wid 'er--an' maybe readin' off my affairs. She got her new intitlemint painted on her stern--every letter a different color, to match de way her namesake treats me--in a new light every day." The girl giggled foolishly. She seemed to see the contour of her own name, a bouquet of color reaching across the boat, and it pleased her. It would be a witness for her--to all who could read. "I sho' does like boats an' water," she generalized, as they walked on. "Me, too," agreed her lover; "but I likes anything--wid my chosen company. What is dat whizzin' past my face? Look like a honey-bee." "'T is a honey-bee. Dey comes up heah on account o' de chiny-flowers. But look out! Dat's another! You started 'em time you drug yo' oah in de mids' o' dem chiny-blossoms. Whenever de chiny-trees gits too sickenin' sweet, look out for de bees!" "Yas," chuckled de man; "an' dey's a lesson in dat, ef we'd study over it. Whenever life gits too sweet, look out for trouble! But we won't worry 'bout dat to-night. Is you 'feared o' stingin' bees?" "No, not whilst dey getherin' honey--dey too busy. Hit 's de idlers dat I shun. An' I ain't afeared o' trouble, nuther. Yit an' still, ef happiness is a sign, I better look sharp." "Is you so happy, my Sugar?" The girl laughed. "I don't know ef I is or not--I mus' see de name on dat skift befo' I can say. Take yo' han' off my wais', boy! Ef you don't I'll be 'feared o' stingin' bees, sho' enough! Don't make life _too_ sweet!" They were both laughing when the girl dashed ahead into the willow-clump, Love close at her heels, and in a moment the _Maria_, in her gleaming dress of yellow, darted out into the sunset.