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scrawled over with love…lines； but that she had shut up the volume long
ago。
There was a tradition that she had been crossed in love； but it was the
faintest of traditions。 A gay young lieutenant of marines had flirted with
her at a country ball （A。D。 1811）； and then marched carelessly away at the
head of his company to the shrill music of the fife； without so much as a
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sigh for the girl he left behind him。 The years rolled on； the gallant gay
Lothario…which wasn't his name…married； became a father； and then a
grandfather； and at the period of which I am speaking his grandchild was
actually one of Miss Dorothy's young ladies。 So； at least； ran the story。
The lieutenant himself was dead these many years； but Miss Dorothy
never got over his duplicity。 She was convinced that the sole aim of
mankind was to win the unguarded affection of maidens； and then march
off treacherously with flying colors to the heartless music of the drum and
fife。 To shield the inmates of Primrose Hall from the bitter influences that
had blighted her own early affections was Miss Dorothy's mission in life。
〃No wolves prowling about my lambs； if you please；〃 said
Miss Dorothy。 〃I will not allow it。〃
She was as good as her word。 I don't think the boy lives who ever set
foot within the limits of Primrose Hall while the seminary was under her
charge。 Perhaps if Miss Dorothy had given her young ladies a little more
liberty； they would not have thought it 〃such fun〃 to make eyes over the
white lattice fence at the young gentlemen of the Temple Grammar School。
I say perhaps； for it is one thing to manage thirty…five young ladies and
quite another thing to talk about it。
But all Miss Dorothy's vigilance could not prevent the young folks
from meeting in the town now and then； nor could her utmost ingenuity
interrupt postal arrangements。 There was no end of notes passing between
the students and the Primroses。 Notes tied to the heads of arrows were shot
into dormitory windows； notes were tucked under fences； and hidden in
the trunks of decayed trees。 Every thick place in the boxwood hedge that
surrounded the seminary was a possible post…office。
It was a terrible shock to Miss Dorothy the day she unearthed a nest of
letters in one of the huge wooden urns surmounting the gateway that led to
her dovecot。 It was a bitter moment to Miss Phoebe and Miss Candace and
Miss Hesba； when they had their locks of hair grimly handed back to them
by Miss Gibbs in the presence of the whole school。 Girls whose locks of
hair had run the blockade in safety were particularly severe on the
offenders。 But it didn't stop other notes and other tresses； and I would like
to know what can stop them while the earth holds together。
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Now when I first came to Rivermouth I looked upon girls as rather
tame company； I hadn't a spark of sentiment concerning them； but seeing
my comrades sending and receiving mysterious epistles； wearing bits of
ribbon in their button…holes and leaving packages of confectionery
（generally lemon…drops） in the hollow trunks of trees…why； I felt that this
was the proper thing to do。 I resolved； as a matter of duty； to fall in love
with somebody； and I didn't care in the least who it was。 In much the same
mood that Don Quixote selected the Dulcinea del Toboso for his lady…love；
I singled out one of Miss Dorothy's incomparable young ladies for mine。
I debated a long while whether I should not select two； but at last
settled down on one…a pale little girl with blue eyes； named Alice。 I shall
not make a long story of this； for Alice made short work of me。 She was
secretly in love with Pepper Whitcomb。 This occasioned a temporary
coolness between Pepper and myself。
Not disheartened； however； I placed Laura Rice…I believe it was Laura
Rice…in the vacant niche。 The new idol was more cruel than the old。 The
former frankly sent me to the right about； but the latter was a deceitful lot。
She wore my nosegay in her dress at the evening service （the Primroses
were marched to church three times every Sunday）； she penned me the
daintiest of notes； she sent me the glossiest of ringlets （cut； as I afterwards
found out； from the stupid head of Miss Gibbs's chamber…maid）； and at the
same time was holding me and my pony up to ridicule in a series of letters
written to Jack Harris。 It was Harris himself who kindly opened my eyes。
〃I tell you what； Bailey；〃 said that young gentleman； 〃Laura is an old
veteran； and carries too many guns for a youngster。 She can't resist a
flirtation； I believe she'd flirt with an infant in arms。 There's hardly a
fellow in the school that hasn't worn her colors and some of her hair。 She
doesn't give out any more of her own hair now。 It's been pretty well used
up。 The demand was greater than the supply； you see。 It's all very well to
correspond with Laura； but as to looking for anything serious from her； the
knowing ones don't。 Hope I haven't hurt your feelings； old boy；〃 （that was
a soothing stroke of flattery to call me 〃old boy；〃） 〃but it was my duty as a
friend and a Centipede to let you know who you were dealing with。〃
Such was the advice given me by that time…stricken； careworn； and
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embittered man of the world； who was sixteen years old if he was a day。
I dropped Laura。 In the course of the next twelve months I had perhaps
three or four similar experiences； and the conclusion was forced upon me
that I was not a boy likely to distinguish myself in this branch of business。
I fought shy of Primrose Hall from that moment。 Smiles were smiled
over the boxwood hedge； and little hands were occasionally kissed to me；
but I only winked my eye patronizingly； and passed on。 I never renewed
tender relations with Miss Gibbs's young ladies。 All this occurred during
my first year and a half at Rivermouth。
Between my studies at school； my out…door recreations； and the hurts
my vanity received； I managed to escape for the time being any very
serious attack of that love fever which； like the measles； is almost certain
to seize upon a boy sooner or later。 I was not to be an exception。 I was
merely biding my time。 The incidents I have now to relate took place
shortly after the events described in the last chapter。
In a life so tranquil and circumscribed as ours in the Nutter House； a
visitor was a novelty of no little importance。 The whole household awoke
from its quietude one morning when the Captain announced that a young
niece of his from New York was to spend a few weeks with us。
The blue…chintz room； into which a ray of sun was never allowed to
penetrate； was thrown open and dusted； and its mouldy air made sweet
with a bouquet of pot…roses placed on the old…fashioned bureau。 Kitty was
busy all the forenoon washing off the sidewalk and sand…papering the
great brass knocker on our front…door； and Miss Abigail was up to her
elbows in a pigeon…pie。
I felt sure it was for no ordinary person that all these preparations were
in progress； and I was right。 Miss Nelly Glentworth was no ordinary
person。 I shall never believe she was。 There may have been lovelier
women； though I have never seen them； there may have been more
brilliant women； though it has not been my fortune to meet them； but that
there was ever a more charming one than Nelly Glentworth is a
proposition against which I contend。
I don't love her now。 I don't think of her once in five years； and yet it
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would give me a turn if in the course of my daily walk I should suddenly
come upon her eldest boy。 I may say that her eldest boy was not playing a
prominent part in this life when I first made her acquaintance。
It was a drizzling； cheerless afternoon towards the end of summer that
a hack drew up