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Rh “Oh, how’s that old corn of yours? Can’t I put a balm”

“No! You cannot! Mary, bring your pup; I’m going along.”

As a happy tot was passing out that big, kindly front door, Sarah said:—

“Was Councilman Simpkins always so grouchy, Lady Standish?”

“No. Not until John Gadsby ‘cut him out’ and won Lady Gadsby.”

“Aha!! And a Ho, Ho!!” said Sarah, laughing gayly. “So folks had what you call ‘affairs’ way back, just as today!” and also laughing inwardly, at what Lucy had said about this kindly Lady Standish and His Honor.

Ah! That good old schoolday, now so long past! How it bobs up, now-a-days, if you watch a young lad and a happy, giggling lass holding hands or laughing uproariously at youthful witticisms. And how and almost imaginary that far-back day looks, if that girl with whom you stood up and said “I do,” laughs, if you try a bit of romantic kissing, and says:—

“Why, John! How silly! You act actually childish!!”

And now it won’t do any harm to hark back