“Not I,” he laughed.  “I’ve never been sick a day in my life, unless it was after I’d got mixed up with dynamite that time.  Don’t you think you might wear those lilacs?”

“Surely not all of them.  One, perhaps.”  She tucked a spray in at the bosom of her white waist.  “You haven’t told me yet where you got them.  Have you been stealing?”

“Some I stole, some I begged, and some I—­just took.  I think I can truthfully declare, though, that there is not another bit of lilac at this moment in the whole village.  I went on a foraging expedition after breakfast and there is the result.  I’ve examined every bush and hedge with a microscope.”

“And all that trouble for me!” she exclaimed.  “I’m sure I’m flattered.”  A little flush of rose-pink crept into her clear cheeks.  “Do you know, Mr. Herrick, you’re a perfectly delightful neighbor?  Last night fish, to-day flowers!  And I haven’t thanked you for the fish, have I?  They were delicious, and it was good of you to send them.  Especially as Zenas Third said you didn’t have very good luck.”

“No, we didn’t catch many,” answered Wade, “but we had a good time.  I was sorry I couldn’t send more, though.”

“More!  Pray how many trout do you think two ladies of delicate appetites can eat, Mr. Herrick?  You sent six, and we didn’t begin to eat all of those.”

“Really?  They were little chaps, too.  I’m glad you liked them.  Next time I hope I’ll have some better ones to offer.  Zenas and I are going to try again the first cloudy day.”

“I hope you have good luck.”  There was a moment’s silence.  Eve raised the lilacs to her face again and over the tips of the sprays shot a glance at Wade.  He had crossed his legs under him and was feeling for his pipe.  He looked up and their eyes met.

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you any tobacco,” she said.

“I’ve got plenty,” he laughed, “if you don’t mind my smoking.”

“Not a bit.  Perhaps I should call Carrie.  I think she likes the smell of tobacco better than any perfume she knows.”

“Is she well?” asked Wade, contritely.  “I should have asked before, but—­you—­something put it out of my head.”

“Quite well, thanks.  She’s making something for luncheon and has forbidden me the kitchen.  It’s a surprise.  Do you like surprises, Mr. Herrick?”

“Some.  It depends on the nature of them.”

“I suppose it does.  An earthquake, for instance, would be a rather disagreeable surprise, wouldn’t it?”

“Decidedly.  I can imagine a surprise that would be distinctly pleasant, though,” said Wade, giving a great deal of attention to the selection of a match from his silver case.  “For instance, if you were to give me a small piece of that lilac for my buttonhole.”

“That would surprise you?” laughed Eve.  “Then I’m to understand that you think me ungenerous?”

“No, indeed, I was—­was considering my unworthiness.”