rubbed and patted his face. For a time he was in constant nervous motion, but he gradually became quiet. At length she fancied he was asleep, and was just slipping noiselessly from the bed, when he asked,—
“May I say one thing more, Miss Bess?”
“What is it, Fred?”
“I'd like to go for a little walk to-morrow; and may the boys come up again next week?”
At breakfast the next morning, both Fred and Bess looked rather the worse for their vigil; but, except for an increased gentleness on Fred’s part, and a little more careful attention on Bessie’s, there was nothing to show what had occurred, and the secret of their long talk remained all their own. As they went to their lessons, Fred said,—
“I had such a good dream last night.”
“What was it?” inquired Bess, as she opened the history they were reading.
“It was after our talk, you know,” Fred answered slowly, as if trying to bring it back again. “I was at home once more, lying on the sofa crying, for everything went wrong, and I was all alone. All of a sudden you came
