"You will not?" said Jasper. "Still uncertain lest it should have been sober earnest? Then I will cut one for myself. May I?" and he smiled at Stella.
Stella did not speak, but she inclined her head.
Jasper went to one of the standards and cut a red rose deliberately and carefully, and placed it in his coat, then he cut another, and with a smile held it to Stella.
"Will that do instead of the one the stupid boy has spoiled?" he said, laughing.
Stella would have liked to refuse it, but Frank's eyes were upon her.
Slowly she held out her hand and took the rose.
A smile of triumph glittered for a moment in Jasper's eyes, then he put his hand on Frank's shoulder.
"My dear Frank," he said, in a soft voice, "you must be careful; you must repress that impulsive temper of yours, must he not?" and he turned to Stella and held out his hand. "Good-bye! It is so dangerous, you know," he murmured, holding Stella's hand, but keeping his smiling eyes fixed on the boy's face. "Why, some of these days you will be doing someone an injury and find yourself in prison, doing as they call it, six months' hard labor, like a common thief—or forger!" and he laughed, as if it were the best joke in the world.
Not so Frank. As the bantering words left the thin, smiling lips, Frank recoiled suddenly, and his face went white.
Jasper looked at him.