he demanded abruptly . `` Lisbeth Miller , '' answered the boy , still frowning seaward over his secret thoughts . Turner started again . Lisbeth Miller ! He might have known it . What woman in all the world save Lisbeth Miller could have given her son those eyes and curls ? So Lisbeth had married Neil Jameson -- little Lisbeth Miller , his schoolboy sweetheart . He had forgotten her -- or thought he had ; certainly he had not thought of her for years . But the memory of her came back now with a rush . Little Lisbeth -- pretty little Lisbeth -- merry little Lisbeth ! How clearly he remembered her ! The old Miller place had adjoined his uncle 's farm . Lisbeth and he had played together from babyhood . How he had worshipped her ! When they were six years old they had solemnly promised to marry each other when they grew up , and Lisbeth had let him kiss her as earnest of their compact , made under a bloom-white apple tree in the Miller orchard . Yet she would always blush furiously and deny it ever afterwards ; it made her angry to be reminded of it . He saw himself going to school , carrying her books for her , the envied of all the boys . He remembered how he had fought Tony Josephs because Tony had the presumption to bring her spice apples : he had thrashed him too , so soundly that from that time forth none of the schoolboys presumed to rival him in Lisbeth 's affections -- roguish little Lisbeth ! who grew prettier and saucier every year . He recalled the keen competition of the old days when to be `` head of the class '' seemed the highest honour within mortal reach , and was striven after with might and main .
He had seldom attained to it because he would never `` go up past '' XXXXX .
Jameson Lisbeth Miller Tony Turner days old seaward year years