"O Jim!" she cried then, her soul in her handsome eyes.
"O Sallie!"--and he had her fast and tight once more.
An ineffable blank, punctuated liberally with sounding exclamation
points, and strongly marked periods,--though how or why a blank should
be punctuated at all, only blissful lovers could possibly define.
"Jim, dear Jim!" whispering it, and snuggling her blushing face closer
to the faded blue, "can you love me after all that has happened?"
"Come now! _can_ I love you, my beauty? Slightly, I should think. O, te,
te, di di, idde i-dum,"--singing Frank's little song with his big, gay
voice,--"I'm happy as a king."
Happy as a king, that was plain enough. And what shall be said of her,
as he sat down, and, resting the wounded leg--stiff and sore yet,--held
Sallie on his other knee,--then fell to admiring her while she stroked
his mustache and his crisp, curling hair, looking at both and at him
altogether with an expression of contented adoration in her eyes.
Frank, tired of prowling round the door, candy in hand, here thrust his
head in at the window, and, unfortunately for his plans, sneezed.
"Mutual-admiration society!" he cried at that, seeing that he was
detected in any case, and running away,--his run spoiled as soon as it
began.
"We are a handsome couple," laughed Jim, holding back her face between
both hands,--"ain't we, now?"
Yes, they were,--no mistake about that, handsome as pictures.
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