"I've been looking for you both," he said. "I want to tell you something."
"Now it's coming," Miriam muttered.
"Sit down, then," Helen said. "We can't see you so high up."
"What! in my best clothes? All right." The light was dim, but they felt the joviality that hung about him and saw his teeth exposed in a smile he could not subdue. "The ground's damp, you know. There's a heavy dew."
There was a silence through which the poplars whispered in excitement.
"Perhaps I am a little deaf," Miriam said politely, "but I haven't heard you telling us anything."
"Yes; he said the ground was damp."
"So he did! Come along, we'll go in."
"No, don't!" he begged. "I know I'm not getting on very fast, but the fact is—I can't bear women to be called after flowers. If it weren't for that I should have told you long ago. And hers is one of the worst," he added sadly.
Miriam and Helen shook each other with their silent laughter.