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THE AUTHOR'S DAUGHTER.

least does not care for her in the way that alone can make it right and fitting to touch lip with lip. Although I have not had much learning I know my own place and yours. Let go my hand, if you please, this minute."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Lindsay," said Copeland, dropping the hand he held and feeling a little cowed by her grand manner. "I did not think you would take it up so seriously. I used to kiss my sisters and cousins and the girls about, and nobody thought anything of it."

"I'm neither your sister nor your cousin, and I don't feel like one, nor do you feel like a brother to me, and besides I'm not used to kiss anybody and I won't have it. Write your letter and go your way to-morrow, George. We part friends if you do not offend me again," and Jessie lifted her milk pails and walked slowly to the house, leaving George Copeland in a state of bewildered admiration at her spirit and her sincerity.