By and by, when we had our rooms and were washed and refreshed, we drank tea in the garden, where old-fashioned flowers were sweet; plenty of roses, stocks, and pansies. (I had an old Scottish nurse when I was a foot or two high, and I've never forgotten what she said about pansies. "They have aye the face of a smacked cat!" It's true, isn't it? A cat glares and puts its ears back when it's smacked. Not that I ever smacked one to see.)
Afterward, I was not of a mind to propose anything. I thought each had better follow his or her inclination for what was left of the day; and mine was to stroll out and review old memories. I should have liked to take Ellaline, but fancied she might prefer society nearer her own age. However, I came across her in the High Street, alone, gazing fascinated at the window of an antique shop. There are some attractive ones in Winchester.
I wasn't sure if she weren't waiting for Dick, who might have strolled away from her for a minute, so I would have passed on if she hadn't turned.
"Did you ever see anything so beautiful?" she asked me.
I had, but I didn't say so. I liked her to like everything in my Winchester, so I inquired what she admired most in the shop window. She hardly knew. But there was some wonderful old jewellery.
The girl was right. The antique jewellery was particularly good. There were some admirable necklaces and rings, with fine stones.
"What's your birth month?" I asked, on a sudden thought.
"July," said she.
"What—this very month? I hope the birthday hasn't passed."
"No-o, not yet," she answered reluctantly. She saw by now what was in the wind, and didn't want to seem greedy.