“Well, there is no reason why you shouldn't,” said a voice from the back of the summer-house, which he knew to be Mrs. Trafford's.
He jumped up to overtake her, but she was gone.
CHAPTER XII. MAITLAND'S VISIT
“What was it you were saying about flowers, Jeanie? I was not minding,” said Mrs. Butler, as she sat at her window watching the long heaving roll of the sea, as it broke along the jagged and rugged shore, her thoughts the while far beyond it.
“I was saying, ma'am, that the same man that came with the books t' other day brought these roses, and asked very kindly how you were.”
“You mean the same gentleman, lassie, who left his card here!” said the old lady, correcting that very Northern habit of Ignoring all differences of condition.
“Well, I mind he was; for he had very white hands, and a big bright ring on one of his fingers.”
“You told him how sorry I was not to be able to see him,—that these bad headaches have left me unable to receive any one?”
“Na; I did n't say that,” said she, half doggedly.