A Little Queen of Hearts - An International Story

hope was in the wind, where it had not been for a long time, and, what was more, the first suggestion of spring was in it too, and every one knows what

love the old place, and even the dingy recitation rooms, whose quaint, high desks and slippery benches are notched with the penknives of many a boy, whose name, as a man, has come to be known through the length and breadth of England. To Harold it was a matter of no small pride, I assure you, that his particular seat on the form during that spring term was the same that had once been Gladstone's-"the prettiest little boy," by the way, in the mind of his partial teacher, that ever went up to Eton. But all this, as you can plainly see, has nothing whatever to do with the title of this chapter, so it "behooves us," as the preachers used to say, to turn our back on Harold and the charms of the renowned old college, and our faces toward the ocean and a far-off land-far off, that is, as far as Windsor and the English are concerned, but very near and dear to the hearts of some of the rest of us. Of course it is the letter that is turning our thoughts that way at this particular moment. It is tied firmly in a packet within a great leather bag, and, having been just in time to catch the mail-train, is being spirited down to Queenstown, where one of the great White Star steamers has been waiting full four long hours, so important are these reams upon reams of letters we and our English cousins keep sending one to the other across the water. Wind and tide favor the huge, swift ship, and early in the morning, the sixth day out, Fire Island light is sighted. It is a cloudless morning, the white sands of the South-shore beaches shine like silver in the sunlight, and the fresh sea breeze that is stirring holds its own the whole length

e heard the signal-three little, short, sharp whistles-about five minutes ago. She decides it is worth while to make herself comfortable, and also worth while, looking askance at the doubtful doormat, to bring a well-swept rug from within. Then she seats herself, and, clasping two fair little hands round one knee, just waits, letting eyes rove where they will and thoughts follow. That is a very pretty cage in the window across the way, but she feels sorry for the bird. People oughtn't to leave a canary hanging full in the sunshine on a warm day like this; and then she meditates awhile on the advantages of living on the side of the street that is shady in the afternoon. And now two or three gentlemen are coming by from the ferry, all of whom she knows by sight, for the short terrace where she lives is by no means a general thoroughfare, and just behind them is Mr. Eversley, May Eversley's father. She wishes he w

plies the gray-coated newcomer, clas

me out?" she asks

Hartley leaned back and rested bo

rie-Celeste complacently; "I fe

ore, Bradford

at the thought that both their men should have won. The winning in question had occurred at a foot-race the night before, an accomplishment some

0

mply answered, his kind face radiant as a boy's, "The largest yet, Marie-Celeste-enough to take me home for two months this summer, and pay Brad

he start to the finish," proud to show that she remembered the terms she had heard him use; and only too glad of the opportunity, Chris proceeded to give a graphic narrative of all the details

ad been reached, and hoping in her heart of hearts that she was to have the

was getting on with his training for the race? Had any other among them promised to be on hand at the latest delivery on the afternoon succeeding it, so as to learn just what the issue had been, and at a time when he would be able to stop and tell about it? Would any one else in the world have thought of suggesting that he should give three short little whistles when he reached the Brow

thought he had better be moving on, and thought at the same time, too, I venture,

ed, as he turned to go down the step and she caught

ngry at himself for his forgetfulness; "it's an i

e. "It's from Harold, and we haven't heard from him in ever so lo

id Chris, smiling at her impatience, "

e to be sound asleep when they come home." Then she asked after a moment of serious cogitation, "Do you suppose, Chris,

ris, as he went down the steps. "You

. But no, hard as it was, she felt certain it would really be best not to open it; so she would put the letter in her pocket, and when she went to bed she would slide it under her pillow, and then only take little cat-naps until her father and mother should come home, and she could tell them about it, and hear what was in it. But alas! for the little cat-naps; for the lights blinked brightly in the h