"My dear Frank," he murmured. "What is the matter?"
So sudden was the change, so unexpected, that Stella, who had caught the boy's other arm, stood transfixed.
Frank gasped.
"What did you mean by keeping the rose?" he burst out.
Jasper laughed softly.
"Oh, I see!" he said, nodding with amused playfulness. "I see. You were watching—from the window, perhaps, eh?" and he shook his arm playfully. "And like a great many other spectators, took jest for earnest! Impetuous boy!"
Frank looked at the pale, smiling face, and at Stella's downcast one.
"Is it true?" he asked Stella, bluntly.
"Oh, come!" said Jasper, reproachfully. "Isn't that rather rude? But I must forgive you, and I do it easily, my dear Frank, when I remember that your sudden onslaught was prompted by a desire to champion Miss Stella! Now come, you owe me a rose, go and cut me one, and we will be friends—great friends, will we not?"
Frank slid from his grasp, but stood eying him suspiciously.