A dozen things came crowding up to her lips in answer. She wanted to tell him the story of Hildegarde's weaving and old Hildgardmar's warning. She wanted to say that she could not trifle with the happiness that was written for her in the stars by giving away even a strand of Clotho's golden thread before she was old enough to choose wisely the one on whom to bestow such a favour. But she knew that he would not understand these allusions to a story of which he had never heard.
She did not know how to put into words the vague, undefined feeling that she had, that he must not come to her with such speeches until he had won his spurs and received his accolade. It was her helplessness to answer as she wished that made her spring up impatiently and say in her most imperious, Little Colonel-like way, "Didn't you heah me tell you to stop talking that way, Malcolm Maclntyre? Of co'se I care for you. I've always liked you, and I think you're one of the nicest boys I know, but I won't if you keep on that way when I tell you to stop. You might at least wait till you come back from college and let me see what sawt of a man you've turned out to be!"
"I'll be whatever you want me to be, Lloyd," he began, but just then the mistletoe gatherers came running down the path toward them, and Ranald's whistle brought the others from the churchyard with their bittersweet. Lloyd flung away her nut-shells, and standing on the top of the stile brushed her dress with her handkerchief. Malcolm, swinging his gun to his shoulder, picked up her basket and walked beside her in conscious silence, as the merry party strolled on toward the depot.
Several times she glanced up shyly at him, saying to herself again that he was certainly one of the nicest boys she knew, the most courteous, the most attractive, with the same beauty of face and polish of manner that had made him such a winning little Knight of Kentucky. But the little pin he had worn as the badge of that knighthood, that stood for the "wearing the white flower of a blameless life," was no longer on the lapel of his coat. He had laid it aside more than a year ago, saying that he had outgrown that child's play, and that it was impossible for a fellow of his age to live up to it.
As Lloyd noticed its absence she was glad that she had answered him as she did. But almost with the same breath came the recollection that he had said, "I'll be whatever you want me to be, Lloyd," and she wondered with a quicker heart-throb if it were really so that she had power to wield such an influence over him, and she wondered also, if she had given him the curl as he asked, and told him that she wanted him to wear the white flower again and live up to its meaning, if he would have done it for her sake.
Keith rushed on ahead to see if the man had brought their suit-cases down to the waiting-room, and the others crossed over to the store for some hot pop-corn. There were several holly wreaths hanging in the window, and although Lloyd knew that a number of them had already been sent out to Locust from town, she could not resist the temptation of buying the largest one there, it was so unusually bright and full of berries. They had barely reached the waiting-room again when the train came thundering along the track.
With hasty good-byes the three boys hurried up the steps. Keith and Rob hung on to the railing on the platform of the rear car, swinging their caps and calling back various messages about Christmas and next week and after the holidays, but Malcolm, after one long look into the Little Colonel's eyes, turned and went into the car. He wanted to carry away with him undisturbed the picture she made as she stood there on the platform, waving her handkerchief. She was all in dark blue, her fair hair blowing in the wind, her cheeks a delicate wild rose pink. At her feet was the basket of Christmas greens, and on her arm hung the glowing wreath of Christmas holly.
It was the last night of the old year. Watch-night, Mom Beck called it, and as soon as dinner was over she and Aunt Cindy and Alec hurried away to Brier Creek Church, where the coloured people were to hold services till midnight, watching the old year out and the new year in.
It had been a busy week for Lloyd and Betty. The happiest of Christmas Days had been followed by neighbourhood parties, entertainments, and merrymakings of all descriptions. The old Southern mansion rang with many gay young voices, and overflowed with life, for there were guests within its hospitable gates from morning until night.