Part 16 (1/2)
”Emily Warren, is thee and Richard Morton both lost?” called Mr. Yocomb from the piazza. ”I can't find mother either. If somebody don't come soon I'll blow the fish-horn.”
”We're all coming,” answered Mrs. Yocomb, and she led the way toward the house.
”You have not given me a rose yet,” I said to Miss Warren.
”Must you have one?”
”A man never uses the word 'must' in seeking favors from a lady.”
”Adroit policy! Well, what kind of a one do you want?”
”I told you long ago.”
”Oh, I remember. An old-fas.h.i.+oned one, with a p.r.o.nounced meaning. Here is a York and Lancaster bud. That has a decided old-style meaning.”
”It means war, does it not?”
”Yes.”
”I won't take it. Yes I will, too,” I said, a second later, and I took the bud from her hand. ”You know the law of war,” I added: ”To the victor belong the spoils.”
She gave me a quick glance, and after a moment said, a trifle coldly,
”That remark seems bright, but it does not mean anything.”
”It often means a great deal. There, I'm out of the garden and in the ordinary world again. I wonder if I shall ever have another bit of Eden in my life.”
”Oh, indeed you shall. I will ask Mr. Yocomb to give you a day's weeding and hoeing there.”
”What will you do in the meantime?”
”Sit under the arbor and laugh at you.”
”Agreed. But suppose it was hot and I grew very tired, what would you do?”
”I fear I would have to invite you under the arbor.”
”You fear?”
”Well, I would invite you if you had been of real service in the garden.”
”That would be Eden unalloyed.”
”Since I am not intoxicated, I cannot agree with you.”
CHAPTER XI
”MOVED”