“I would rather see a brave man disfigured, than a handsome coward,” retorted Helena, with disdain, casting a side look at the distant form of Caliphronas.
“Oh, and you think Caliphronas is”—
“Very nice,” interrupted Helena cruelly. “Yes, he is delightful!”
“I believe you are very fond of Caliphronas,” said Maurice, displeased at this speech.
“I don’t think you are, Maurice,” pouted the girl, looking down.
“Assuredly I’m not, and to prove this, I will do my best to beat him at the high jump!”
“If you do,” said Helena gayly, “I will give you a rose.”
“Of what color, you coquette,—red for love, or white for silence?”
“Neither! Yellow for jealousy!”
She ran away after her father with a silvery laugh, in which Maurice, in spite of his vexation, could not help joining, as the charming coquetry of this young girl was delightful enough to fascinate him, and annoying enough to pique his pride, of which Mr. Roylands had no small share.