They walked together to the library table. Papa took up a letter, fingered it idly and studied Fan’s sweet young face.
“I did not mean to speak of this until Monday,” he began, “but I have a feeling that it may be best finished at once. I received a letter a few days ago,—in which there was an enclosure for you—this.”
He took out a folded paper and handed it to her. She opened it wonderingly. Out fell a faded rose with two or three buds.
She gave a low cry and hid her face on papa’s shoulder. He smoothed the golden hair and presently said in a tremulous tone—
“Will you read my letter? I should like to have you.”
She raised her scarlet face, still keeping her eyes averted. It was some seconds before she could begin to distinguish the words.
A manly straight-forward appeal to papa from Winthrop Ogden. He confessed to having spoken hastily in the summer, and promising to wait long enough to convince Miss Endicott that he was in earnest. His mind had not wavered from that hour, and now he asked papa’s permission to visit her and try his fate, convinced that his love was loyal and earnest. His family admired Miss Endicott, and such an engagement would meet with their approval, he knew. Might he hope for an answer soon?
“My darling!”
“Oh papa!” and the fair head went down again.
“Shall I send this young interloper about his business?”