"Only three weeks!" I echoed.
"Yes," she nodded. "I have not seen the river for all that time. Is it changed?"
"Sadly changed."
"How?"
"Perhaps I have changed."
"Well, I hope so," she laughed, "after that wetting;" then, seeing an indignant flash in my eyes, she added quickly, "which you got by so kindly bringing back my boat."
"You have not been rowing to-day?"
"No; see, I have been gathering the last of the May-blossom. May is all but dead."
"And 'Flower of the May'?"
"Please do not remind me of that foolish song. Had I known, I would not have sung it for worlds."