“Yes. I don’t know what he would do if you were not so good to him at the Rectory.”
“But we do not mend his gloves,” I said teasingly.
“Oh, that is—nothing;” but she blushed again.
There was a vase of choice flowers on one window-sill, and I went to inspect it.
“Why, I did not know you had an azalea,” I exclaimed in surprise.
“I have not. They—”
“Mr. Fairlie brought them over,” said Mrs. Ryder gravely. “He comforts himself with flowers and birds and kittens. Harmless dissipation for a young man.”
I felt mischievous enough to add,—“And Jennie,” but delicacy forbade me. But I was pleased. If ever anybody deserved a good husband it was Jennie Ryder.
Then I went on to Mrs. Aitkens’. She kept me until dusk. I was hurrying home in the cold March twilight and had just passed the Church when some one from across the street paused and eyed me sharply. It was not a familiar face I thought, and went on. The person came over which made me quicken my steps.
“Miss Rose,” a voice said huskily, “Miss Endicott!”