'But on whom? I am but too content with——'
A rapid booted tread was at the door; it was hastily opened. 'Gertrude, what's the meaning?' said the professor. 'Oh! I beg your pardon, Mr. Underwood.' This with withering politeness, and the door was shut again.
'He is going to Papa,' Gertrude laughed, with her natural mischievous triumph; then, laying her hand on Lance's arm, she exclaimed, 'Now, whatever you do, promise me not to be bullied into giving up the shop;' then, lowering her tone to its former tenderness, 'What he could do is good enough for any one.'
'So I feel,' said Lance, 'though I could drop it, if you wished. My personal share in the retail trade I mean, of course, not the editorship, for that is my sheet-anchor.'
'The Pursuivant! I thought I never could touch it again.'
'His poor Pur,' repeated Lance. 'I must show you this note, though I am ashamed. And he bade me give you this;' as from the depths of a business-like pocket-book he extracted an envelope, and from it the note and dried piece of myrtle. She greeted it with a little cry, and fresh tears. 'Ah! he said you would remember,' said Lance.
'Remember! I should think I did! Didn't he tell you?'
'I know nothing but what he wrote here. He left this for me to have, after it was all over.'
'I see! I see! O, I am glad you did not give it me at first. Dear, dear thing! Now I know! That day when he came here he made me gather it for him, and told me he had one great wish, and I was to remember it when I saw this.'
'And that great wish?' It was an odd sort of wet-eyed smile of Lance's, but then she had rested her head against him. 'Did you know it?'