Hurrah!" Then came a delicious hour to Edouard Riviere.

Young and old poured out their glowing thanks and praises upon him till his checks burned like fire.
The baroness was especially grateful, and expressed a gentle regret that she could see no way of showing her gratitude except in words.

"What can we do for this little angel ?" said she, turning to Josephine.
"Leave that to me, mamma," replied Josephine, turning her lovely eyes full on Edouard, with a look the baroness misunderstood directly.
She sat and watched Josephine and Edouard with comical severity all the rest of the time she was there; and, when she retired, she kissed Rose affectionately, but whispered her eldest daughter, "I hope you are not serious.

A mere boy compared with you." "But such a sweet one," suggested Josephine, apologetically.
"What will the world come to ?" said the baroness out loud, and retreated with a sour glance at all of them--except Rose.
She had not been gone five minutes when a letter came by messenger to Edouard.

It was from Picard.