During fifteen or twenty minutes Elsie sat pressing both hands to her head, while her eyes filled with tears, and her lips quivered like those of an infant grieved by some hurt it cannot understand. A voice from the outer passage aroused her. It was that of Tom Fuller, who had worked himself into a state of intense excitement from fear that his rough tenderness had mortally offended its object.

"Miss Mellen—Elsie, do come down and speak to a fellow. I'm sorry as can be that I made such a donkey of myself and frightened you away. Just give one peep out of the door, darling, to say that you will forgive me by-and-bye, and I never will kiss you again so long—that is if it's very disagreeable."

The door of Elsie's chamber opened and a face all flushed with tears, through which a smile was breaking, looked out on the repentant Tom.

"Oh, Elsie, darling, I didn't mean it, and you've been crying all this time. If somebody would take me out and lynch me I'd be obliged to 'em—upon my soul, I would."

"Never mind, Tom. I'm not angry—only such a fright, with crying," said Elsie, reaching her hand through the opening, which he forthwith covered with penitent kisses. "It's only a headache."

"A headache! dear me, what a brute I am. But wait a minute. I'll send right to the city for a dozen bottles of bay rum, or schnapps, or something of that sort."

"No, no," answered Elsie, laughing herself into semi-hysterics, "I shall be better in a minute."

"And come downstairs—will you come downstairs?"

"Yes, yes; wait a minute while I get the tangle out of my hair."

Tom retreated to the staircase and waited with his eyes fastened on Elsie's door like those of a good-natured watchdog. As for the girl herself, she bathed her face in cold water, chilling the pain away, straightened out her curls, twisted all her hair in a great knot back of the head, and came out softly, like a dear little forgiving nun, filled with compassion for other people's sins.

Tom followed her into the little morning-room where his confession had been made, and sat down on the sofa to which she retreated with great caution, as if she were afraid.

"Won't Bessie and Mellen be astonished," he insinuated; "I do wonder how they will look, when we tell 'em how it is."

"You won't have an opportunity of judging just at present," replied Elsie.

"Why won't I?"

"Because I don't choose you to say one word about the matter to any human being until I give you permission."

"Now, what is that for?" asked Tom, somewhat discomfited.

"Just because I prefer it," answered the young lady.

"But I want the whole world to know how happy I am," said he.

"Tom Fuller," cried Elsie, menacingly; "are you going to begin already to dispute and annoy me, after what I've just suffered, too?"

"Lord bless you, no! I am as sorry as can be."

"Then do exactly as I tell you," continued she, "and promise me not to mention what has happened till I give you leave."

"It's a little hard," said Tom, "not to be able to show how happy a fellow—why, I shall tell in spite of myself."

"If you don't promise, I'll take back every word I've said—"

"I will! I will!" he interrupted, terrified at the bare threat. "Don't be angry, pet; I'll do just as you say."

"That's a nice old Tom; now you are good and I love you."

"But you, won't keep it long, Elsie?"

"No, no; but just at present I choose; I told you what a terrible tyrant I should be."

"I like it," said Tom, with the thorough enjoyment of her mastery, which only an immense creature like him can feel in a pretty woman's graceful tyranny.

"So much the better for you," said Elsie.

"Oh, little girl, we will be as happy as the day is long!" cried he.

"And you'll never contradict me?"

"Never!"

"And I shall have my own way more and more every day?"

"Well," said Tom, thoughtfully; "I don't see how you could easily; but you may try."

Elsie laughed; his oddity amused her.

"You are a perfect ogre of a lover," cried she. "What a head of hair!"

"It never will keep in order," said Tom, pressing down the shaggy locks with both hands.

"Let them alone," said Elsie; "you look more like a lion that way; I like it."

She was gracious and playful as a kitten, but Tom's happiness was disturbed all too quickly by the entrance of Victoria, crying:

"Missis horse runned off wid her; but she y'arnt hurt; she's a comin' in de carriage."

Out of the room Tom and Elsie went, anxious to learn the full meaning of her words.