Athalie

"That's so! I remember now. You were going to show me how."

"Have you learned to sail a boat?"

"No. I'll tell you what I'll do, Athalie, I'll come down this

summer--"

"But I don't live there any more."

"That's so. Where do you live?"

She hesitated, and his eyes fell for the first time from her youthful

and engaging face to the clothes she wore--black clothes that seemed

cheap even to a boy who had no knowledge of feminine clothing. She was

all in rusty black, hat, gloves, jacket and skirt; and the austere and

slightly mean setting made the contrast of her hair and skin the more

fresh and vivid.

"I live," she replied diffidently, "with my two sisters in West

Fifty-fourth Street. I am stenographer and typewriter in the offices

of a department store."

"I'd like to come to see you," he said impulsively. "Shall I--when

vacation begins?"

"Are you still at school?"

He laughed: "I'm at Harvard. I'm down for Easter just now. Tell me,

Athalie, would you care to have me come to see you when I return?"

"If you would care to come."

"I surely would!" he said cordially, offering his hand in adieu--"I

want to ask you a lot of questions and we can talk over all those

jolly old times,"--as though years of comradeship lay behind them

instead of an hour or two. Then his glance fell on the slim hand he

was shaking, and he saw the strap-watch which he had given her still

clasped around her wrist.

"You wear that yet?--that old shooting-watch of mine!" he laughed.

She smiled.

"I'll give you a better one than that next Christmas," he said, taking

out a little notebook and pencil. "I'll write it down--'strap-watch

for Athalie Greensleeve next Christmas'--there it is! And--will you

give me your address?"

She gave it; he noted it, closed his little Russia-leather book with a

snap, and pocketed it.

"I'm glad I saw you," said the girl; "I hope you won't forget me. I am

late; I must go--I suppose--"

[Illustration: "'I'm glad I saw you,' said the girl; 'I hope you won't

forget me.'"] "Indeed I won't forget you," he assured her warmly, shaking the

slender black-gloved hand again.

He meant it when he said it. Besides she was so pretty and frank and

honest with him. Few girls he knew in his own caste were as

attractive; none as simple, as direct.