"I don't care for smart folks, do you?"
"Can't say I don't, seeing I should like to be smart myself."
There was a little pause, and then David said: "But you would advise me, if there was something I wanted very much, to take it the best way I could?"
Bessie seemed to hesitate; perhaps she guessed what it was the young fellow wanted! "Certainly," she answered in a low voice.
"Bessie," and he turned eagerly towards her, "it's a flower I want, a flower to wear for ever on my heart."
"I think you're growing sentimental, and it's getting late; we had better turn back."
"No, Bessie, now I've once started you must let me finish. It's you I want." And then he told her the old story which has had so many different endings, yet always beautiful when coming from lips sincere. That same night David told his mistress all about it. "And what did Bessie say?" asked Phebe, greatly interested and pleased at the confidence he showed in her.
"Well, she didn't say much, but I think it will be all right."
"You may rest assured if she had meant to refuse you she would have said so right out. But, David," and here she put her hand on his arm, and her voice took on a low, tender note "have you told her how you came to be in my employ?"
"No, Mrs. Waring," all the joy suddenly dying out of his face; "do you think I need do so?"