I dreamed that I pressed thee once more to my breast.
Thy soft perfumed tresses and gentle caresses
Thrilled me and stilled me and lulled me to rest.”
Donald saw that Wainwright was deeply moved. His throat was working convulsively, and he seemed to have difficulty in lighting his pipe. His shaking hands were cupped over his pipe-bowl in an attempt to hide his emotion. His face was pale and tears brimmed his clear grey eyes.
“Come on, John, let’s ’it up a jig!” cried Andy as he capered across the room and pulled the trapper to his feet. To the lilt of the “Irish Washerwoman” the odd pair smacked the floor with their feet, whirled in giddy circles, and whooped like wild men. They linked arms and spun like a top until John’s moccasined foot trod on Andy’s long coat and brought them to the floor in a heap.
The comedy helped Wainwright to regain his composure, and sent Connie into screams of happy laughter.
“I’ve had a most wonderful evening, Andy,” said Connie gratefully as they were leaving. “The most wonderful in my life,” she added softly.
“By the way, Mr. Pettray,” spoke Mr. Wainwright from the doorway, “how are you progressing with your studies?”
“Not ’arf bad,” answered Andy. “I ’ave learned about the sepals, calyx, corolla, pistil, filament, anther, pollen, style and stigma.” As he rattled off these words he glanced at Gillis and Douglas. He had been longing for this chance to air his newly-acquired knowledge.
“Fine,” complimented Wainwright smilingly. “You are having no difficulty, then?”