"I am satisfied," began Webb, "that I could develop acres of four-leaved clover. Some plants have this peculiarity. I have counted twenty-odd on one root. If seed from such a plant were sown, and then seed selected again from the new plants most characterized by this 'sport,' I believe the trait would become fixed, and we could have a field of four-leaved clover. New varieties of fruits, vegetables, and flowers are often thus developed from chance 'sports' or abnormal specimens."
"Just hear Webb," said Amy. "He would turn this ancient symbol of fortune into a marketable commodity."
"Pardon me; I was saying what might be done, not what I proposed to do. I found this emblem of good chance by chance, and I picked it with the 'wish' attacked to the stem. Thus to the utmost I have honored the superstition, and you have only to make your wish to carry it out fully."
"My wishes are in vain, and all the four-leaved clovers in the world wouldn't help them. I wish I was a scientific problem, a crop that required great skill to develop, a rare rose that all the rose-maniacs were after, a new theory that required a great deal of consideration and investigation, and accompanied with experiments that needed much observation, and any number of other t-i-o-n-shuns. Then I shouldn't be left alone evenings by the great inquiring mind of the family. Burt's going away, and, as his father says, has got into a scrape; so what's to become of me?"
They all arose from the table amid general laughter, of which Webb and Burt were equally the objects, and on the faces of those not in the secret there was much perplexed curiosity.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Maggie, "if Webb should concentrate his mind on you as you suggest, it would end by his falling in love with you."
This speech was received with shouts of merriment, and Amy felt the color rushing into her face, but she scouted the possibility. "The idea of Webb's falling in love with any one!" she cried. "I should as soon expect to see old Storm King toppling over."
"Still waters run—" began Maggie, but a sudden flash from Webb's eyes checked her.
"Deep, do they?" retorted Amy. "Some still waters don't run at all. Not for the world would I have Webb incur the dreadful risk that you suggest."
"I think I'm almost old enough to take care of myself, sister Amy, and I promise you to try to be as entertaining as such an old fellow can be. As to falling in love with you, that happened long ago—the first evening you came, when you stood in the doorway blushing and frightened at the crowd of your new relations."