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The child shook her head. "L," prompted the mother. Muriel ventured, dubiously: "L-a-?" Her mother shook her head. The child ventured again: "L-i-?" "No, honey." The child kicked her brown little legs. "Tell me, mother dear," she besought. "Please tell me." "L-o-v-e," spelled the mother. "Oh, yes! I 'member now.... Mother, dear?" "Yes, little sweetheart?" "When is a daddy coming home?
What he asked was impossible for him and for her. Henriette handed back the ring. "Marry you an aristocrat! Why, that would ruin you in the eyes of all the world!" He was down on his knees, pleading, agonized, distressed, looking for some sign of relentment from the beauteous little head that seemed rigidly to repress emotion. "Then you d-o-n-'t l-o-v-e m-e?" he faltered at last, rising.
And the word would be l-o-v-e, without any D's. Now you have got the straight of it, my dear. I love you love you love you, from the crown of that curly hear to the soles of your little feet. What's more, you have got to love me, too, since I am, "Your future husband, "P. S. And now, Curly, you know my first-rate reasons for not meaning to get shot up by any of these Mexican fellows."
He has rechristened Baby Stevie's pet name; but it has never sounded so enchanting before. Then they walk on in delicious silence. Another bird sings in a drowsy afternoon tone, "Sweet, sweet, I love you, I l-o-v-e you." They glance at each other, and both translate it. Her cheeks are redder than wild-roses now; and her dimple holds the sweetness of a great mystery.
Bethink you of the garden walk last night." "We were talking all the time of the sweetbrier and hollyhocks, and things like that." "You might have talked of the days of the week or the multiplication-table: one kind of words was just as good as another. Any thing Steve said last night could have been spelled with four letters." "Four letters?" "To be sure. L-o-v-e." "You used to like Stephen."
How beautifully the lashes droop over her eyes, deepening and softening the tint, until it looks like a glint of heaven! "Oh, we ought to go on," she says presently; and with a dainty smile and motion, she rises. Ah, if she knew what he is wild to utter! They turn their steps homeward. A wood-robin in a thicket sings, "Sweet, sweet, I love you, I l-o-v-e you," with a maddening, lingering cadence.
The five-lettered spelling is chiefly used in the western half of the earth, and along certain lines and in certain spots here and there in the eastern half where the word is known. That first spelling is l-o-v-e. God is love. Love is of God. God is always controlled by a purpose in all His dealings with the race, and with you and me.
Some of us need to go to school, and to sit down in the lower classes where spelling is taught. We can spell believe in the common way with seven letters. We must learn to spell it with four letters l-o-v-e. We need to learn to spell love with a b and a y o-b-e-y. We need to learn to spell obey with five letters a-b-i-d-e. We need to find that abide is spelled best with four letters o-b-e-y.
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