“We met at Marbridge,” Julia answered; “at a dance, a year and a half ago.”

“At Marbridge?  Oh, of course!  Funny I shouldn’t have remembered when I heard your name the other day!”

Captain Polkington did not think it at all funny; he did not know who Mr. Cross might be, nobody important he judged by his voice and manner—­hostesses at Marbridge often had to import extra nondescript men for their dances.  But whoever he was, if he had been there once he might go there again and carry with him the tale of Julia’s doings and home and other things detrimental to the Polkington pride.  The Captain listened to hear one of the two in the other room refer to the change of name which had prevented an earlier recognition.  But neither did; she saw no reason for it, and he had forgotten her original name if he ever knew it.

“I remember all about you now,” he was saying; “you danced with me several times and asked me about the Van Heigens’ blue daffodil”—­he paused as if a new idea had occurred to him.  “You were not in the line then, I suppose?” he asked.

“No, I knew nothing about flower growing or selling,” she answered.  “What you told me of the value of the blue daffodil was a revelation to me.”

He laughed a little.  “But one you’ll try to profit by,” he said.

The Captain moved in his chair.  He could have groaned aloud at the words, which represented precisely what Julia would not do.  Unfortunately his movement had much the same effect as his groan would have done, some one on the other side of the door moved too, and in the opposite direction.  It must have been Julia, her father was sure of it; it was like her to do it; she must have gone almost to the window; he could not make out what was said.  The man was no doubt trying to buy the bulb; a stray word here and there indicated that, but it was impossible to hear what offer was made.  It was equally impossible to hear what Julia said; her father only caught the inflection of her voice, but he was sure she was refusing.

In disgust and anger he rose and, having pulled the jam to the side of the fire, went into the garden.  There he took the hoe and started irritably to work on a bed near the front door; it was some relief to his feelings to scratch the ground since he could not scratch anything else.

In a little while Cross came out.  “Well, if you won’t, you won’t,” he was saying as Julia opened the door.  “I think you are making a mistake; in fact, if you weren’t a lady I should say you were acting rather like a fool; but, of course, you must please yourself.  If you think better of it you can always write to me.  Just name the price, a reasonable price, that’s all you need do.  We understand one another, and we can do business without any fuss—­you have my address?”

He gave her a card as he spoke, although she assured him she should not want it; then he took his leave.

She watched him go, tearing up the card when he had set off down the road.  Captain Polkington watched her.