"I'll wait five if you like, although I'm a wee bit late."
There was a rush down the stairs.
"O!" cried Helen, "please don't speak so loud. The old cat will hear if you do. The old cat is her maid. She is always trying what she can find out. The servants—but, O! I didn't come to say this. Look here! I know there was going to be a dinner party to-night, and I knew that she would have flowers, and I was determined that you should have some too. So I ran away from old Walker this afternoon. I gave her such a fright you should have seen her face. And I bought these."
As Helen, breathless and triumphant, finished speaking, she placed a bunch of lilies of the valley in Cousin Mary's hand.
"My dear child! I scarcely know what to say. O, yes! of course I will wear them," in answer to a blank look of dismay on Helen's face. "I thank you, dear, indeed I do. But, O! Helen, why did you do wrong for me? And, dear child, I have missed you all day."
Helen's face hardened.
"Has she been setting you against me too?"
"Helen, I can't stop now. I promise to wear your flowers and to think of you all the evening. Will you promise me something?"
"If I can."
"Will you try to put all unkind and ungenerous thoughts out of your head until I can see you again?"