"What an idle question!" laughed Cecilia.
"I had another to ask you," he answered gravely. "Not an idle one."
She looked at him quickly, wondering whether he was going to ask her to be his wife, and wondering, too, what she should answer if he did. For some days past she had understood that what they called their compact of friendship was becoming a mere comedy on his side, if not on hers, and that he loved her with all his heart, though he had not told her so.
"It is rather an odd question," he continued, as she said nothing. "You have not formally given me any right to ask it, and yet I feel that I have the right, all the same."
"Friendship gives rights, and takes them," Cecilia answered thoughtfully.
"Exactly. That is what I feel about it. That is why I think I may ask you something that may seem strange. At all events, I cannot go on living in doubt about the answer."
"Is it as important as that?" asked the young girl.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Wait a moment. Let these people pass. How in the world did you succeed in getting so many roses to grow in such a short time?"