When others paid her their rustic compliments she tossed her head, and made her little saucy repartees; but when he said something low and flattering, it was too honey-sweet to her heart to be thrown off thus.

And, somehow, the more she yielded to this fascination the more she avoided Philip.

He did not speak flatteringly--he did not pay compliments--he watched her with discontented, longing eyes, and grew more inclined every moment, as he remembered his anticipation of a happy evening, to cry out in his heart _vanitas vanitatum_.
And now came crying the forfeits.

Molly Brunton knelt down, her face buried in her mother's lap; the latter took out the forfeits one by one, and as she held them up, said the accustomed formula,-- 'A fine thing and a very fine thing, what must he (or she) do who owns this thing.' One or two had been told to kneel to the prettiest, bow to the wittiest, and kiss those they loved best; others had had to bite an inch off the poker, or such plays upon words.

And now came Sylvia's pretty new ribbon that Philip had given her (he almost longed to snatch it out of Mrs.Corney's hands and burn it before all their faces, so annoyed was he with the whole affair.) 'A fine thing and a very fine thing--a most particular fine thing--choose how she came by it.