And listen! Down at Silverside I've been reading the most delicious thing--the Mimes of Herodas!--oh, so charmingly quaint, so perfectly human, that it seems impossible that they were written two thousand years ago.

There's a maid, in one scene, Threissa, who is precisely like anybody's maid--and an old lady, Gyllis--perfectly human, and not Greek, but Yankee of to-day! Shall we reread it together ?--when you come down to stay with us at Silverside ?" "Indeed we shall," he said, smiling; "which also reminds me--" He drew from his breast-pocket a thin, flat box, turned it round and round, glanced at her, balancing it teasingly in the palm of his hand.
"Is it for me?
Really?
Oh, please don't be provoking! Is it _really_ for me?
Then give it to me this instant!" [Illustration: "Turning, looked straight at Selwyn."] He dropped the box into the pink hollow of her supplicating palms.

For a moment she was very busy with the tissue-paper; then: "Oh! it is perfectly sweet of you!" turning the small book bound in heavy Etruscan gold; "whatever can it be ?" and, rising, she opened it, stepping to the window so that she could see.
Within, the pages were closely covered with the minute, careful handwriting of her father; it was the first note-book he ever kept; and Selwyn had had it bound for her in gold.
For an instant she gazed, breathless, lips parted; then slowly she placed the yellowed pages against her lips and, turning, looked straight at Selwyn, the splendour of her young eyes starred with tears..