He surrendered it with a dubious look.  She did not consider the little tumulus of Flora, but devoured the name of the builder.  Her face turned crimson; and leaning over to one side, she dropped the bouquet into the basket for cherry seed.  Then she continued her dutiful pastime, her head bent so low that he could see nothing but the part dividing the soft brown hair of her fine head.

He sat down and laughed at her:  “I knew you’d get me into trouble.”

It was some moments before she asked in a guilty voice:  “What did you do?”

“What did you tell me to do?”

“I asked you to be kind to Harriet,” she murmured mournfully.

“You told me to take her out into the darkest place I could find and to sit there with her and hold her hand.”

“I did not tell you to hold her hand.  I told you to try to hold her hand.”

“Well!  I builded better than you knew:  give me my flowers.”

“What did you do?” she asked again, in a voice that admitted the worst.

“How do I know?  I was thinking of something else!  But here comes Harriet,” he said, quickly standing up and gazing down the street.

“Go in,” said Miss Anna, “I want to see Harriet alone.”

“You go in.  The porch isn’t dark; but I’ll stay here with her!”

“Please.”

When he had gone, Miss Anna leaned over and lifting the bouquet from the sticking cherry seed tossed it into the yard—­tossed it far.

Harriet came out into the porch looking wonderfully fresh.  “How do you do, Anna?” she said with an accent of new cordiality, established cordiality.

The accent struck Miss Anna’s ear as the voice of the bouquet.  She had at once discovered also that Harriet was beautifully dressed—­even to the point of wearing her best gloves.

“Oh, good morning, Harriet,” she replied, giving the yellow bowl an unnecessary shake and speaking quite incidentally as though the visit were not of the slightest consequence.  She did not invite Harriet to be seated.  Harriet seated herself.

“Aren’t you well, Anna?” she inquired with blank surprise.

“I am always well.”

“Is any one ill, Anna?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Harriet knew Miss Anna to have the sweetest nature of all women.  She realized that she herself was often a care to her friend.  A certain impulse inspired her now to give assurance that she had not come this morning to weigh her down with more troubles.

“Do you know, Anna, I never felt so well!  Marguerite’s ball really brought me out.  I have turned over a new leaf of destiny and I am going out more after this.  What right has a woman to give up life so soon?  I shall go out more, and I shall read more, and be a different woman, and cease worrying you.  Aren’t women reading history now?  But then they are doing everything.  Still that is no reason why I should not read a little, because my mind is really a blank on the subject of the antiquities.  Of course I can get the ancient Hebrews out of the Bible; but I ought to know more about the Greeks and Romans.  Now oughtn’t I?”