The rosy hours were thus beguiled until it was time for Bella to have Pa’s escort back. The dimples duly tied up in the bonnet-strings and the leave-taking done, they got out into the air, and the cherub drew a long breath as if he found it refreshing.

“Well, dear Pa,” said Bella, “the anniversary may be considered over.”

“Yes, my dear,” returned the cherub, “there’s another of ’em gone.”

Bella drew his arm closer through hers as they walked along, and gave it a number of consolatory pats. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, as if she had spoken; “I am all right, my dear. Well, and how do you get on, Bella?”

“I am not at all improved, Pa.”

“Ain’t you really though?”

“No, Pa. On the contrary, I am worse.”

“Lor!” said the cherub.