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"Ye — yes."

"What was it?"

"I sha'n't tell you."

"Shall I tell you?"

"Ye — yes — but some other time."

"No, now."

"No, not now — to-morrow."

"Oh, no, now. Please, Becky — I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy."

Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added:

"Now you whisper it to me — just the same."

She resisted, for a while, and then said:

"You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody — Will you, Tom? Now you won't, will you?"

"No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky."

He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I — love — you!"

Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded:

"Now, Becky, it's all done — all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that — it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands.