They plodded on again.
"That's right," said Blake. "Hold 'em tight. That Mrs. Lowell and Miss Wilbur are friends worth having, I'm thinking." The man frowned at his own thoughts. The creed of the island had, as its first article: Mind your own business. Matt wished he could go to Mrs. Lowell and pour out to her all he had learned this afternoon, but had his pledged word not prevented, his own habit and training would have made it difficult.
When they reached the field which divided the road from the Inn, Blake parted from the boy, who started off for home with his prize. He stumbled over the knolls while looking at the blossoms, and inhaling their delicious fragrance.
When he had nearly reached the house, he met the quartette of croquet players, the girls escorting the men to the road.
Veronica and Barney Kelly came first and Diana and Philip followed.
"Oh, how lovely, Bertie!" exclaimed Veronica, stopping and stooping the five sun-kisses to smell deep of the roses.
"They are not—they are not for you," said the boy hastily.
"You've no taste, then," said Kelly, while Veronica laughed. "Have you a better girl than this one?"
Bertie pushed on in nervous haste, and Diana's smile did not detain him.