University of Virginia Library

ALMOST A MISUNDERSTANDING.

HE called Sunday night, as had been his custom for several weeks. After they got together alone in the parlor, he plucked up his courage to the proper point, and proposed to her, telling her of the days when every thought was of her, and only her. Then he said,—

"Dearest, will you be mine?"

And she said,—

"I will."

Then he caught her in his arms, and pressed her drooping face close to his yearning breast.

Tighter still he drew his arms about her.

"My darling," he started to whisper, bending his face close to hers; when her head flew up so suddenly as to catch him under the chin with sufficient force to almost amputate his tongue.

"Oh!" he gasped.

"Phew!" she ejaculated: "why, how you smell!"

"Smell!" he repeated, while his smarting tongue forced the tears into his eyes.

"Yes," she replied, bending her face again to his breast, and sniping expectantly, "Oh, my! it is awful!" she added as she drew back her head.

He dropped his own nose into the infected neighborhood, and took a sniff; and then, as his face lighted up, he cheerfully explained:—

"Oh! that is my plaster. I put it on for a cold."

"Oh!" said she in a tone of relief. And again she dropped her head on his yearning breast, only a little higher up, and a little more to one side; while he ran out his tongue, and tenderly caressed the wound with his handkerchief.