“Good bye, Miss Lucy,” said I, “and God bless you. I can’t tell you what my holiday at Elm Close has been to me--and I can’t find words to thank you. I’m a poor lonely fellow, with nobody belonging to me, and leading a slave of a life in the midst of the great crowd, with all sorts of temptations to go wrong. You’ll let me think of you, and Elm Close, and it will be like a little bright window with the sun shining through into our musty clerks’ room. I feel it will help to keep me straight for many a long day. You’ll let me think of you now, won’t you?” said I, pressing the little hand which I held in mine. “Why, you see I can’t help it if I would,” said she, looking up with a merry light in her eyes; but she went on directly, “but, indeed, I’m sure we shall think of you quite as often as you will of us. Joe used to talk so often about you that I felt quite like an old friend before we met, and now you’ve been here we shall feel so dull without you.” “Now, you two! don’t stand talking there all night,” said Joe, coming out of the recess, where he had been rummaging out the pipes and a black bottle; “come, come, kiss and part.” I felt the blood rush up to my face, when Joe said that, but I opened my hands with a jerk, and let hers go, I hardly knew why. If I hadn’t been so fond that I was afraid of her, I should have taken Joe at his word. But I’m glad I didn’t; I’m sure I was right, for I stole a look at her, and saw that she looked vexed, and flushed up to her bright brown hair. Next moment she held out her hand again, and shook mine heartily, and said, without looking up, “Good-bye, you must come again soon,” and then hurried out of the room, and took away all the light with her. Heigh-ho! when shall I see the light again. Well, as I followed Joe into the kitchen, what between the sinking I felt at having to leave, and the doubt whether I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the last with Miss Lucy, I felt half mad, and the first thing I made up my mind to was to have a good quarrel with Joe. So when he sat down on one side of the fire, and began lighting his pipe, I kept standing looking at him, and thinking how I should begin. “There’s your pipe, Dick,” said he, puffing away, “on the settle--why don’t you sit down and light up?” “I shan’t smoke with you to-night, Joe,” said I, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” “Ashamed o’ myself,” shouted Joe, staring up at me till I could hardly keep from laughing, angry as I was; “what, in the name o’ goodness, have I done to be ashamed of?” “’Tisn’t what you’ve done, but what you’ve said.” “Said! what in the world have I said? Precious little I know, for you always get all the talk to yourself.” “Why, what you said just now to me and Miss Lucy,” said I. “To you and Lu?” said he, looking puzzled; and then off he went into one of his great laughs. “Oh, I take--well, that’s too much! To be blown up by _you_ for it! Why, if any one is to scold, I should say it’s Lu.”