Rose in Bloom. Alcott Louisa May

touched by the little trinket and the recollections it awakened.

      "No, I will not," answered Rose, bluntly, much displeased by the irreverent and audacious question.

      Charlie looked rather abashed for a moment; but his natural light-heartedness made it easy for him to get the better of his own brief fits of waywardness, and put others in good humor with him and themselves.

      "Now we are even: let's drop the subject and start afresh," he said with irresistible affability, as he coolly put the little heart in his pocket, and prepared to shut the drawer. But something caught his eye, and exclaiming, "What's this? what's this?" he snatched up a photograph which lay half under a pile of letters with foreign post-marks.

      "Oh! I forgot that was there," said Rose, hastily.

      "Who is the man?" demanded Charlie, eying the good-looking countenance before him with a frown.

      "That is the Honorable Gilbert Murry, who went up the Nile with us, and shot crocodiles and other small deer, being a mighty hunter, as I told you in my letters," answered Rose gayly, though ill-pleased at the little discovery just then; for this had been one of the narrow escapes her uncle spoke of.

      "And they haven't eaten him yet, I infer from that pile of letters?" said Charlie, jealously.

      "I hope not. His sister did not mention it when she wrote last."

      "Ah! then she is your correspondent? Sisters are dangerous things sometimes." And Charlie eyed the packet suspiciously.

      "In this case, a very convenient thing; for she tells me all about her brother's wedding as no one else would take the trouble to do."

      "Oh! well, if he's married, I don't care a straw about him. I fancied I'd found out why you are such a hard-hearted charmer. But, if there is no secret idol, I'm all at sea again." And Charlie tossed the photograph into the drawer, as if it no longer interested him.

      "I'm hard-hearted because I'm particular, and, as yet, do not find any one at all to my taste."

      "No one?" with a tender glance.

      "No one," with a rebellious blush, and the truthful addition, "I see much to admire and like in many persons, but none quite strong and good enough to suit me. My heroes are old-fashioned, you know."

      "Prigs, like Guy Carleton, Count Altenberg, and John Halifax: I know the pattern you goody girls like," sneered Charlie, who preferred the Guy Livingston, Beauclerc, and Rochester style.

      "Then I'm not a 'goody girl,' for I don't like prigs. I want a gentleman in the best sense of the word, and I can wait; for I've seen one, and know there are more in the world."

      "The deuce you have! Do I know him?" asked Charlie, much alarmed.

      "You think you do," answered Rose, with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

      "If it isn't Pem, I give it up. He is the best-bred fellow I know."

      "Oh, dear, no! far superior to Mr. Pemberton, and many years older," said Rose, with so much respect that Charlie looked perplexed as well as anxious.

      "Some apostolic minister, I fancy. You pious creatures always like to adore a parson. But all we know are married."

      "He isn't."

      "Give a name, for pity's sake: I'm suffering tortures of suspense," begged Charlie.

      "Alexander Campbell."

      "Uncle? Well, upon my word, that's a relief, but mighty absurd all the same. So, when you find a young saint of that sort, you intend to marry him, do you?" demanded Charlie, much amused and rather disappointed.

      "When I find any man half as honest, good, and noble as uncle, I shall be proud to marry him, if he asks me," answered Rose, decidedly.

      "What odd tastes women have!" And Charlie leaned his chin on his hand, to muse pensively for a moment over the blindness of one woman who could admire an excellent old uncle more than a dashing young cousin.

      Rose, meanwhile, tied up her parcels industriously, hoping she had not been too severe; for it was very hard to lecture Charlie, though he seemed to like it sometimes, and came to confession voluntarily, knowing that women love to forgive when the sinners are of his sort.

      "It will be mail-time before you are done," she said presently; for silence was less pleasant than his rattle.

      Charlie took the hint, and dashed off several notes in his best manner. Coming to the business-letter, he glanced at it, and asked, with a puzzled expression, —

      "What is all this? Cost of repairs, &c., from a man named Buffum?"

      "Never mind that: I'll see to it by and by."

      "But I do mind, for I'm interested in all your affairs; and, though you think I've no head for business, you'll find I have, if you'll try me."

      "This is only about my two old houses in the city, which are being repaired and altered so that the rooms can be let singly."

      "Going to make tenement-houses of them? Well, that's not a bad idea: such places pay well, I've heard."

      "That is just what I'm not going to do. I wouldn't have a tenement-house on my conscience for a million of dollars, – not as they are now," said Rose, decidedly.

      "Why, what do you know about it, except that poor people live in them, and the owners turn a penny on the rents?"