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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

"
She had a puzzled look.
"I thought you were going to punish me," she answered, smiling.
"For what?" he inquired.
"Whispering," said she.
"Oh, yes! But you have read Walter Scott, and you know ladies are
to be honoured, not punished. I shouldn't know how to do such a
thing. When you've become a teacher you'll see I'm right about
whispering. May I walk home with you?"
Polly had then a very serious look. She turned away, biting her
lip, in a brief struggle for self-mastery.
"If you care to," she whispered.
They walked away in silence.
"Do you dance?" she inquired presently.
"No, save attendance on your pleasure," said he. "Will you teach
me?"
"Is there anything I can teach you?" She looked up at him playfully.
"Wisdom," said he, quickly, "and how to preserve blueberries, and
make biscuit like those you gave us when I came to tea. As to
dancing, well--I fear 'I am not shaped for sportive tricks.'"
"If you'll stay this evening," said she, "we'll have some more of
my blueberries and biscuit, and then, if you care to, we'll try
dancing."
"You'll give me a lesson?" he asked eagerly.
"If you'd care to have me."
"Agreed; but first let us have the blueberries and biscuit," said
he, heartily, as they entered the door.


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