“Let me get that for you,” and Jeff’s long arm easily grasped the spray and drew it down to her.  “Well, I owe a lot to my sisters, that’s sure.”

With quite a knightly air he cut the fairest bud at hand, and gave it to her, saying quietly, “You wouldn’t like it if I said anything soft and sentimental, but you won’t mind if I tell you that you seem to me a lot like that bud there—­that’s going to blossom some day.”

He knew it pleased her, for the ready colour told him so.  But she answered lightly: 

“As yet I’m quite content to be only a bud.  Your sister Celia is the opening rose.  Isn’t she lovely?  Here’s one just like her.  Take it to her and tell her I said so, will you?”

She plucked the rose and motioned to where Celia was coming alone along the orchard road, Frederic Forester having just left her for a hasty trip to town.  Jeff laughed, took the rose and the message, and brought back Celia’s thanks.  Evelyn met him with her full basket, and the rose-picking was over.

“She says to tell you you’re a flatterer, but being a woman, she likes it—­and you,” said Jeff, taking her basket away.

Doctor Forester’s party had lasted eight days now, and his guests were planning how to make the most of the time remaining, when Doctor Churchill came spinning out in the middle of a Thursday morning with a letter.  Mrs. Peyton had sent word that Randolph and Lucy were to meet her in a distant city, thirty-six hours’ ride away.  From there the trio were to proceed to their home.

“They will have to leave this evening in order to make it,” Doctor Churchill announced.  “This letter has barely allowed time—­a little characteristic of Cousin Lula which I remember of old.  She has an idea that time and tide—­if they wait for no man—­can sometimes be prevailed upon to change their schedule on account of a woman.”

Upon hearing the news Lucy burst into tears.  She did not want to go, she did not want to go so soon—­more than all, she was afraid to go alone.

“Undoubtedly some one can be found who is going the same way,” the letter read, easily, “and in any case, you can put them in charge of the railroad officials, who will see that they make no mistakes.  I cannot possibly afford to come so far for them.”

“Why can’t Evelyn go now, too?” pleaded Lucy, as she and Evelyn, Charlotte and Celia were being conveyed on a rapid run home by Frederic Forester.  It had been decided necessary for all feminine hands to fall to work, to accomplish the packing in time to get the young people off at nine that evening.

“Evelyn doesn’t go until next Tuesday, and this is only Thursday,” Charlotte answered, promptly.

“Five days isn’t much difference,” urged Lucy mournfully.  “And when Evelyn’s going right over the same road almost to our home, I should think she’d like to go when we do, if it did cut off a little.  She’s been here all winter.”