When Miss King came into the office the next morning she had a large bunch of bachelor’s buttons in her hand. They were blue—all shades of blue—and they looked very pretty against the clear white of her dress. She had hardly taken off her hat before the telephone rang hard.
Billy heard her say, “Yes, Mr. Prescott.”
“Mr. Prescott says he’s not coming to the office till after lunch,” she said, turning to Billy. “It’s something about the new part of the mill.
“We got along all right the other day, didn’t we? I was anxious all for nothing, wasn’t I, William?
“Now, please get me some water for the flowers, and we’ll settle down to work.”
Billy didn’t feel, that morning, much like talking to anybody, not even to Miss King, so he didn’t say anything.
When he brought back the tall glass vase, Miss King took three of the bluest flowers and broke off the stems.
“I should like to put these in your buttonhole, William,” she said. “They’ll look pretty against your gray coat.
“August is late for bachelor’s buttons; we shall have to make the most of these. Really,” she went on, as she fastened them with a pin on the under side of his lapel, “they’re just the color of your eyes.”