He may or may not have understood her, but he saw she was gratified, and that was sufficient. The afternoon flew by on wings of light. Miss Belinda, who was not accustomed to holidays, but who thoroughly appreciated them when they came, entered into the conversation with zest; while Miss Abby’s unconscious expressions of pleasure were too _naïve_ not to add to, rather than detract from the general enjoyment. The twilight, with its good-bye, came all too soon. “I have a request to make before I go,” said Mr. Ensign. He was standing alone with Paula in the embrasure of the window, a few moments before his departure. “When we see a flower nodding on a ledge above our heads, we long for it; I have heard you talk of friendship, and a great desire has seized me. Miss Fairchild will you be my friend?” She gave him a startled glance that, however, soon settled into a mellow radiant look of sympathy and pleasure. “That is asking for something which if I hesitate to accord, it is because the word, ‘friend,’ carries with it so much,” said she, with a sweet seriousness that disarmed her words of any latent sting they might otherwise have contained. “I know it,” he replied, “and I am very bold to ask it upon so slight an acquaintance; but life is short and real treasure is so scarce. You will not deny me, Miss Fairchild?” Then seeing her look down, hastily continued, “I have acquaintances by the score—friends who style themselves thus, by the dozen, but no _friend_. I want one; I want you for that one. Will you be it? I shall be jealous though, I warn you,” he went on, with a cropping out of his mirthful nature; “I shall not be pleased to observe the circle widened indefinitely. I shall want my own place and no one else in my place.” “No one else can fill the place once given to a friend. Each one has his own niche.” “And I am to have mine?” His look was firm, his eye steadfast. “Yes,” she breathed. With a proud stooping of his head, he took her hand and kissed it. The action became him; he was tall and well made, and gallantry induced by feeling, sat well upon him. In spite of herself, she thought of old-time stories of the Norse chivalry; he stood so radiant and bent so low. “I shall prize my friend at her queenly value,” said he; and without more ado, uttered his farewell and took his departure. * * * * * “Paula!” The young girl started from a reverie which had held her for a long time enchained at that fast darkening window, and hastily looking up, perceived her Aunt Belinda standing before her, with her eye fixed upon her face, with a kind but searching glance. “Yes, aunt.” “You have not told me who this Mr. Ensign is. In all the letters you wrote me you did not mention his name, I think.” “No, aunt. The fact is, I did not meet him until a few days before I left, and then only for an evening, you might say.”