They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his arm thrown round the girl's waist, and she with both her plump, flexible hands clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big, round eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestling attitudes and coaxing ways--with Griffith it may be understood--her other adorers were treated cavalierly enough. “A nice sort of thing,” echoed Griffith. “I should think it would. I should like to have it for your sake. I don't care for it so much for myself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy you such things as Old Flynn's nieces wear. It would n't be a waste of good material on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about a winter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,--a dark blue velvet, and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs made of long white silky fur--” “Angora,” said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in her eyes. “Angora, Griffith.” “I don't know what it's called,” answered Griffith, “but it is exactly your style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we were only rich!” Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over his shoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in some such pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposing that they were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must be admitted that there is some consolation in being in a frame of mind which can derive happiness from such innocent day-dreams. “Just think of the house we would have,” she said, “and the fun we could all have together, if you and I were rich and--and married, Griffith. We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich _and_ married--goodness, Griffith!” and she opened her eyes wide and looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her in both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an extremely but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had kissed her about half a dozen times. It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding. She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to it, and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite a refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely. “We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich,” she said. “And then we could take care, of Aimée and Mollie, and help them to make grand marriages.” But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat.