“Ah, poor Papa, the smell is too strong for his head now; but, perhaps, he would not dislike a rose if he knew it was gathered from Witikind’s tree.”
Ediltrudis shook her head.
“But what if it should be for Witikind himself?” cried Veronica with eagerness, as so pleasant a thought struck her. “Depend upon it, this is a token that Witikind will be here before long, to gather his own roses!”
“I hope you don’t mean to leave these ungathered till he comes. Why, if you don’t cut them now, they will shed their leaves with the noon-day heat. You are not hesitating about gathering them, surely, Veronica?”
“Why I don’t know what to think,” replied Veronica doubtfully. “Suppose we wait till we come in from our walk.”
“Nonsense!” said Ediltrudis; “lend me your knife, and let us carry them in to Mamma at once.”
“Very well,” answered Veronica; “only let me tie up this clove-gilliflower first. How sadly,” she continued, “its leaves have been eaten. I wish we could keep those tiresome hares out.”
“It won’t be easy to do that while they are as bold as they are at present. See there! there is one coming now to the bed, though we are standing here. I wonder what people mean by talking of timid hares. I am sure here they are as bold as lions. Sh! sh! get away with you!” cried Ediltrudis, clapping her hands, and making a noise which was likely to have put any ordinary hare to flight.
But the little animal made no attempt to retrace his steps.
“Sh! sh!” cried Ediltrudis once more; and taking up a pebble, made as though she was about to throw it.