"That whoever would drink the ink should be your little husband?" "Yes, stupid! But let me go--" "Then it is true?" "Of course it is. Let me go!" She was growing impatient. For a moment I hesitated; then I said:-- "Run away quickly! nobody can see us." She did not need telling twice. As swiftly as her feet could carry her, she ran off to the enemy's camp. [Illustration: "SHE WAS GROWING IMPATIENT."] I was a double-dyed traitor. After conniving at my captive's escape I deserted. "Can it indeed be true?" I pondered. "Have I only to drain that phial of ink in order to become Georgette's husband some day? She said so, and she must know!" I went to look for the ink-bottle, which the child had carried back into the schoolroom. There I stood contemplating the black, uninviting-looking liquid. Not for a single moment did I dream of swallowing the loathsome stuff in the girl's presence. It did not occur to me that she ought to be a witness of my sacrifice, or that she had demanded it as a proof of love. My idea was rather that the beverage was a sort of love-philtre, such as I had read of in my book of fairy tales. She had said: "Whoever will drink the ink shall be my husband." Faugh! the bottle was full to overflowing. How nasty it looked! Never mind! So much the better! I should have liked it to have been nastier still. I closed my eyes, and raised the bottle to my lips. "What are you about, you dirty little thing?" exclaimed a voice from behind me, at the same instant that I received a smart blow upon my uplifted arm. Covered with confusion, I turned, and beheld Mademoiselle Ermance, who had surprised me in my singular occupation. "What is the meaning of this nonsense?" said she, with unwonted severity. I had no time to explain. Just at that moment my schoolfellows came trooping in. Georgette seeing me standing there, ink-stained and disgraced, and already--the coquette!--forgetful of her promise, exclaimed, with a face of disgust:-- "Oh, the dirty boy! The nasty, dirty boy!" [Illustration: "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NONSENSE?"] Everything, however, has its bright side. Mademoiselle Ermance's tap and my own start of surprise, had jerked the ink-bottle from my grasp; my yellow jacket was literally flooded! I was rid of it at last! It was to Georgette that I owed this happy deliverance. I thank her for it to-day! What has become, I wonder, of that lovely child? Does she ever think now of those old times? How often have I dreamed of her! I have forgiven her for the tears which she caused me to shed. Her charming face dwells always in my mind as a pure ray from the bygone light of youth. I am not her husband, and probably never shall be. I am resigned to my fate, which I richly deserve, because-- _I did not drink the ink!_ _The Queer Side of Things._ OLD JOE'S PICNIC [Illustration]