“Why, just the same vine as the one on the white house.”
“She saw the old home place when she drove over with Mr. Ladd,” said Mr. Alder. “She remembered the vine.”
“I am glad you like it. You ought to like it, Clematis, because it has your own name,” added Mr. Alder.
“Well, well, is her name Clematis?” Mr. Brooks took her on his knee and looked into her face.
“I wish I had a little girl like you,” he said.
She sat there on his knee, while he talked with Mr. Alder.
“I hope you will come again, Clematis. You will, if you get a chance, won’t you?” Mr. Brooks said, as they started to go.
He brought out a big, sweet pear, and put it into her hand.
“You can eat that on the way home,” he said.
All the way home Clematis kept thinking of Mr. Brooks, and the vine, and how he had looked into her face while she sat on his knee.