But Tom could not take his eyes off her, and he stood, gaping and admiring, and every now and then passing the back of his hand across his lips.
"What do you think of my choice, Tom?" asked Scatterly, confidentially.
"O, splendiferous!" said the gardener.
"Roses and lilies in her cheeks—eh?" said Scatterly.
"Her lips are as red as carnations, and her eyes as blue as larkspurs," said the gardener.
"I'm glad you like your new mistress; now go to work, Tom."
"I beg pardon, Mr. Scatterly; but I called to see you on business."
"Well—out with it."
"Do you remember any thing about saluting the bride?"
"I remember I paid the customary homage to Mrs. Mayflower."