"And a very becoming
flower a white rose is," she continued, "though I am a bold girl to be
blarneying with a young gentleman I met no longer ago than last night."
"But why shouldn't you blarney with a gentleman, when you began by saving
his life?"
"Or, rather, when the gentleman had the politeness to gallop about the
county with me tucked under his arm?" She stood still and laughed softly,
but consummately, and her eyes closed tight with the mirth of it. She had
taken one of the roses from her waist, and, as she stood, holding it by
the long stem, its petals lightly pressed her lips.
"You may have it--in exchange," she said. He bent down to her, and she
began to fasten the pink rose in place of the white one on his coat. She
did not ask him, directly or indirectly, who had put the white one there
for him, because she knew by the way it was pinned that he had done it
himself. "Who is it that ev'ry morning brings me these lovely flow'rs?"
she burlesqued, as he bent over her.
"'Mr. Wimby,'" he returned. "I will point him out to you. You must see
him, and, also, Mr. Bodeffer, the oldest inhabitant--and crossest."
"Will you present them to me?"
"No; they might talk to you and take some of my time with you away from
me." Her eyes sparkled into his for the merest fraction of a second, and
she laughed half mockingly.
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