"Good-morning, Miss Adair." No greeting could have been more conventional. "May I ask if you are looking for forget-me nots? There are some already out lower down the stream. I will show you where they are if you will turn to the left."
"Thank you," said Margaret.
They moved down the slight slope together, but on different sides of the stream. At last they reached the spot where a gleam of blue was visible at the water's edge.
"It is on your side," Margaret said, with a little smile.
"I will get them for you," he replied. And she stood waiting while he gathered the faintly-tinted blossoms.
"And now," she said, as he rose to his feet again, "how will you give them to me? I am afraid I cannot reach across."
"I could come over to you," said Wyvis, his dark eyes resting upon her eagerly. "Will you ask me to come?"
She paused. "Why should I ask you?" she said, with a smile, as if between jest and earnest.
"You are standing on your ground, and I on mine. I have never in my life been asked to cross the boundary."
"I ask you then," said Margaret coloring prettily. She was half-frightened at the significance of her own words, when she had spoken them. But it was too late to retract. It took Wyvis Brand a moment only to leap the brook, and to find himself at her side. Then, taking off his hat and bowing low, he presented her with the flowers that he had gathered. She thanked him with a blush.