"But," sez I, holding the glass, and a lookin down on the carpet and over my new trousers, "where on arth can that monge have gone tu! I hope there aint none of it got on tu your silk frock, Miss Miles."
"Oh, no," sez she, "don't mind it, the grapes will do jest as well."
I took up a plate and gave her a great whopping bunch from off one of the dishes, and then I made another bow, and, sez I—
"Anything else, Miss Miles? I'd do anything on arth to oblige you."
She twisted up that plump little mouth of hern in one of the handsomest smiles I ever see, and, sez she, "I'll take that rose bud that dropped from the grape basket when you took these out."
I swan, but she looked plaguy harnsome, I couldn't but jest keep from staring right in her face all the time. I felt my heart a floundering about, like a pullet with its neck twisted, when she said this, and I took up the rose bud between the fingers of my yaller gloves, and I stepped back and made as genteel a bow as I could, considering I hadn't room to square my elbows, and, sez I—
"I hope you'll keep that ere to remember me by."
She gave me another of them tarnation bright smiles, and she stuck the rose in her bosom, and sez she, kinder larfin a little—
"What shall I give you, Mr. Slick? This myrtle sprig? it'll keep green longer than your rose."