The moment of bliss ended, the Little Lover got out the Treasury Box and added the moist, shortened licorice-stick to the other treasures in it. There were many of them,--an odd assortment that would have made any one else smile. But the Little Lover was not smiling. His small face was grave first, then illumined with the light of willing sacrifice. The treasures were all so beautiful! She would be so pleased,--my, _my_, how please She would be! Of course She would like the big golden alley the best,--the very best. But the singing-top was only a tiny little way behind in its power to charm. Perhaps She had never seen a singing-top--think o' that! Perhaps She had never had a great golden alley, or a corkscrew jack-knife, or a canary-bird whistle, or a red and white "Kandy Kiss,"--or a licorice-stick! Think o' that--think of how pleased She would be! "'Course She will," laughed the Little Lover in his delight. If he only dared to give Her the Treasury Box! If he only knew how! If there was somebody he could ask,--but the housekeeper was too old, and Uncle Larry would laugh. There was nobody. The waiting wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the red-cheeked pear in the Treasury Box, and the softest apple. They made it a little dang'rous to wait. It had not been very long that he had loved Her. The first Sunday that She smiled at him across the aisle was the beginning. He had not gone to sleep that Sunday, nor since, on any of the smiling Sundays. He had not wanted to. It had been rest enough to sit and watch Her from the safe shelter of the housekeeper's silken cloak. Her clear, fresh profile, Her pretty hair, Her ear, Her throat--he liked to watch them all. It was rest enough,--as if, after that, he could have gone to sleep! She was very tall, but he liked her better for that. He meant to be tall some day. Just now he did not reach-- But he did not wish to think of that. It troubled him to remember that Sunday that he had measured himself secretly beside Her, as the people walked out of church. It made him blush to think how very little way he had "reached." He had never told any one, but then he never told any one anything. Not having any mother, and your father being away all the time, and the housekeeper being old, and your uncle Larry always laughing, made it diff'rent 'bout telling things. Of course if you had 'em--mothers, and fathers that stayed at home, and uncles that didn't laugh,--but you didn't. So you 'cided it was better not to tell things. One Sunday the Little Lover thought he detected Uncle Larry watching Her too. But he was never quite certain sure. Anyway, when She had turned Her beautiful head and smiled across the aisle, it had been at _him_. The Little Lover was "certain sure" of that! In his shy little way he had smiled back at Her and nodded. The warmth had kept on in his heart all day. That was the day before he found out the Important Thing.