"Suppose, Jamie," said Mabel, as we seated ourselves on the grass,
"that a good fairy should come to you and tell you that your highest
wish should be fulfilled. What would you then ask?"
"I would ask," cried I, seizing Mabel's hand "that she would give me a
good little wife, with blue eyes and golden hair, whose name should be
Mabel."
Mabel blushed crimson and turned her face away from me to hide her
confusion.
"You would not wish to see things as they are, then," whispered she,
while the sweetest smile stole over her blushing face.
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed I. "But what would you ask, Mabel?"
"I," answered she, "would ask the fairy to give me a husband who loved
me well, if--if his name was--Jamie."
A little before supper-time we both stole on tip-toe into the
professor's study. He was writing, as usual, and did not notice us.
Mabel went up to his chair from behind and gently put her hands over
his eyes, and asked if he could guess who it was. He, of course,
guessed all the names he could think of, except the right one.
"Papa," said Mabel, at last, restoring to him once more the use of his
eyes, "Jamie and I have something we want to tell you."
"And what is it, my dear?" asked the professor, turning round on his
chair, and staring at us as if he expected something extraordinary.
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