“That’s an amiable remark to make, Miss Arnold,” protested Max, from his place on the floor at her feet. “Here you have the three finest minds of ninety-two under your very eyes, and still you declare for ninety-one. That’s not fair.”
“But you couldn’t expect me to forsake my allegiance to ninety-one, when it has been giving me such a good time,” she answered contentedly. “And besides, haven’t I a brother in this year’s class, and hasn’t he done us all proud to-day?”
“Only wait till our turn comes next year,” said Louis, as he slyly abstracted a rose from the great bunch in his hand.
In a moment, the eye of Max was upon him.
“No poaching on those preserves, young man,” he called. “Miss Arnold, I advise you to look out for your bowpot, for Louis is helping himself to it.”
“You’d better pass them around, Miss Arnold,” suggested Jack, laughing up at Louis who was gazing sentimentally at the flower in his hand. “That will make it even, and prevent our coming to blows later.”
Dorothy laughed, as she held out her hand for the flowers.
“Give them to me please, Mr. Keith,” she said. “Soldiers don’t usually wear posies in their buttonholes, when they start out into battle; but I will decorate you all, in honor of the happiest day I have ever spent.”
“What’s going on?” inquired Leon, strolling up to the group. “I demand my share of the booty too, Dot, so pass over. What’s the meaning of this unusual generosity?”
“Your sister is giving her colors to her true and lawful knights,” answered Alex lightly, as, in his turn, he bent down while Dorothy fixed the large, full-blown flower in his buttonhole.