? ? ? ? 'Oh, what a weary boy!' said Dora one night, when I met her eyes as I was shutting up my desk.
? ? ? ? 'What a weary girl!' said I. 'That's more to the purpose. You must go to bed another time, my love. It's far too late for you.'
? ? ? ? 'No, don't send me to bed!' pleaded Dora, coming to my side. 'Pray, don't do that!'
? ? ? ? 'Dora!' To my amazement she was sobbing on my neck. 'Not well, my dear! not happy!'
? ? ? ? 'Yes! quite well, and very happy!' said Dora. 'But say you'll let me stop, and see you write.'
? ? ? ? 'Why, what a sight for such bright eyes at midnight!' I replied.
? ? ? ? 'Are they bright, though?' returned Dora, laughing. 'I'm so glad they're bright.' 'Little Vanity!' said I.
? ? ? ? But it was not vanity; it was only harmless delight in my admiration. I knew that very well, before she told me so.
? ? ? ? 'If you think them pretty, say I may always stop, and see you write!' said Dora. 'Do you think them pretty?'
? ? ? ? 'Very pretty.'
? ? ? ? 'Then let me always stop and see you write.'
? ? ? ? 'I am afraid that won't improve their brightness, Dora.
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