"Why, Jennie!" I cried, somewhat indignantly. "What do you mean by jumping on my lap in this unceremonious manner? Where is Geraldine? Go tell her I want to see her at once." I was getting angry; but, would you believe it? that child went on playing with her doll and completely ignored me! It was too much; I wondered whether the whole town were in a conspiracy to drive me crazy. In despair I resolved to see Geraldine at once, and at the risk of being shot for a burglar, I turned to the door the little girl had fortunately left open and walked in. As I entered the hall my foot slipped on the marble tiling and I fell heavily against an exquisite bisque head standing on the newel post. When I picked myself up, sufficiently sore from my fall to be convinced that it was a real one, the bisque figure-head was standing safely and smiling at me--it was a-laughing head--in a way I conceived to be particularly exasperating. I was so excited by this time that I struck it a furious blow with my fist, and still that infernal head stood and grinned at me! If I did not see Geraldine soon I felt that I would go mad, so I marched upstairs until I came to the door of her room. I knocked gently on the door; there was no sound! I tried the handle with the same ill success as before. This was the last straw. I confess I stood at that door and shouted and screamed and kicked it,--pounded on it until I sank exhausted on the floor,--and still no thought of my real condition entered my head. It happened that in my present situation my eyes were just on a level with the key-hole. I peeped in. There was Geraldine; I could see her plainly; and in another moment I saw her take a letter from her dress, kiss it passionately, and burst into a storm of sobs and tears. I was so wrought up by this time that in spite of my fatigue I jumped to my feet, and in another second I found myself by her side. She was clad in some soft white wrapper, her hair all unbound, and was kneeling with her face in her arms on a chair. I was inexpressibly touched by her heart-broken attitude. I had never been anything but a very formal lover, as I said before; however, I thought the circumstances might warrant me in waiving a little ceremony, especially as she evidently needed a comforter sadly, so I walked quickly over to her and laid my hand on her shoulder. "Geraldine," I said, "my darling, I am here to help you. Geraldine, won't you speak to me?" There was no answer and no intermit to the sobs and tears she was pouring on my letter. I thought this was pushing shyness to the limit, and I had never suspected her of being timid. However, as she made no objection to my hand being on her shoulder, I thought that was a good sign, and I knelt down beside her and slipped my arm around her neck and said,--