"Can't you speak, child? Are those flowers for sale?"
Julia remained gazing in the man's face; her eyes, once fixed on those features, seemed immoveable. He stood directly before her, holding the iron gate which led to the cottage open with his hand.
"No—no—if you please, sir, they are ordered. A lady wants them."
"Then they are not paid for—only ordered. Come in here. There is a lady close by who may fancy some of those orange blossoms."
"No, no, sir—the other lady might be angry!"
"Nonsense! I want the flowers—not enough to be missed, though—just a handful of the white ones. Here is a piece of gold worth half your load. Let me have what I ask, and I dare say your customer will give just as much for the rest."
"I can't, sir—indeed I can't," said Julia, drawing a corner of her little plaid shawl over the basket; "but if you are not in a hurry—if the lady can wait an hour—I will leave these and get some more from the greenhouse."
The man did not answer, but, placing his hand on her shoulder, pushed the frightened child through the open gate.
"Let your customer wait—during the next hour you must stay here. It is not so much the flowers that I want as yourself!"