"I got this for you, Jessie. Won't you have it?" he said beseechingly. "Don't run away yet. I—I'd like some words with you,—if you don't mind."
Jessie received the bough, gazing on the ground, and twisted it shyly in her fingers, murmuring a "Thank you."
After which followed a pause. They stood facing each other, neither knowing what to say.
"You haven't been to see us for ever so long, Jessie," Jack observed at length.
"Haven't I? I'm so busy—"
"I shouldn't think that was reason enough. It don't sound like you to forsake old friends for new ones. It don't really."
Jessie glanced quickly up at this, and Jack was encouraged to proceed.
"I can't imagine whatever in the world it is that's come between us; but I know there's something or other. And it isn't me. It isn't anything that I've done. I did hope, one time, that you cared for me—and lately I've pretty near given up hope. Since I've been up and about again, I mean."
Jessie was surprised into a confession. "Why!—I thought it was you that had grown different!"
"I! But how could you? I!—Why—why, Jessie, you know I'm not changed. You must know it. You know it quite well. You've kept out of my way, and wouldn't come near me; and if you saw me, you've just run off as fast as you could. And I couldn't think whatever it's been for. Somehow, it don't seem like you that you should think yourself too grand now for me, if you ever did care the least bit,—and I can't half believe it. And yet I don't know what to think—and they say you're different."