There had been numerous discussions about Primrose. Her brother longed to see her attired quite as a young lady.
"Nay, they grow up fast enough," protested Madam Wetherill. "And there will be a host of town beauties to whom you must pay court, who would be jealous of such a chit and think her forward."
"But she dances so beautifully. I can never be grateful enough that you have had her so well instructed, and brought up a churchwoman. And really she must dance. Lieutenant Vane is almost as much smitten with her as I am."
"The more need for me to be careful, then."
"Nay, I shall guard her well, for I want to take her to England fancy-free, so that she may have her pick among titles. She is fast outgrowing childhood. And there is nothing so sweet as an opening bud."
"Mine shall not be pulled open before the time. Remember she has guardians, and thou art not one. Her Quaker uncle may have a word. He hath only lent her to me."
"We will settle that with other questions," the young man replied laughingly.
That very morning he had brought her in a pair of pretty bracelets that had delighted her mightily. He clasped them on her slender wrists.
"Now you are my prisoner," he said. "I will not let you go until I have a sweet kiss from your rosy lips."
She turned her cheek to him gravely.