Which Mrs. Marchbanks took with a certain look of amazement, that showed itself subtilely in a slight straightening of the lips and an expansion of the nostrils.  She did not sniff; she was a great deal too much a lady; she was Mrs. Marchbanks, but if she had been Mrs. Higgin, and had felt just so, she would have sniffed.

Somebody came up close to Rosamond on the other side.

“That was good,” said Kenneth Kincaid.  “Thank you for that, Miss Rosamond.”

“Will you have some more?” asked Rosamond, cunningly, pretending to misunderstand, and reaching her hand to take his empty cup.

“One mustn’t ask for all one would like,” said Kenneth, relinquishing the cup, and looking straight in her eyes.

Rosamond’s eyes fell; she had no rejoinder ready; it was very well that she had the cup to take care of, and could turn away, for she felt a very foolish color coming up in her face.

She made herself very busy among the guests.  Archie Mucklegrand stayed by, and spoke to her every time he found a chance.  At last, when people had nearly done eating and drinking, he asked her if she would not show him the path down to the river.

“It must be beautiful down there under the slope,” he said.

She called Dorris and Desire, then, and Oswald Megilp, who was with them.  He was spending a little time here at the Prendibles, with his boat on the river, as he had used to do.  When he could take an absolute vacation, he was going away with a pedestrian party, among the mountains.  There was not much in poor Oswald Megilp, but Desire and Rosamond were kind to him now that his mother was away.

As they all walked down the bank among the close evergreens, they met Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Marchbanks, with Kenneth Kincaid, coming up.  Kenneth came last, and the two parties passed each other single file, in the narrow pathway.

Kenneth paused as he came close to Rosamond, holding back a bough for her.

“I have something very nice to tell you,” he whispered, “by and by.  But it is a secret, as yet.  Please don’t stay down there very long.”

Nobody heard the whisper but Rosamond; if they could have done so, he would not have whispered.  Archie Mucklegrand was walking rather sulkily along before; he had not cared for a party to be made up when he asked Rosamond to go down to the river with him.  Desire and Dorris had found some strange blossom among the underbrush, and were stopping for it; and Oswald Megilp was behind them.  For a few seconds, Kenneth had Rosamond quite to himself.

The slight delay had increased the separation between her and Archie Mucklegrand, for he had kept steadily on in his little huff.

“I do not think we shall be long,” said Rosamond, glancing after him, and looking up, with her eyes bright.  She was half merry with mischief, and half glad with a quieter, deeper pleasure, at Kenneth’s words.