"When I meet her—" McTavish began, and abruptly paused.
"What?" Miss MacNish asked with some eagerness.
"Oh, nothing; I'm so full of it that I almost betrayed my own confidence."
"I hope that you aren't implying that I might prove indiscreet."
"Oh, dear no!" said McTavish.
"It had a look of it, then," said Miss MacNish tartly.
"Oh," said McTavish, "if I've hurt your feelings—why, I'll go on with what I began, and take the consequences, shall I?"
"I think," said Miss MacNish primly, "that it would tend to restore confidence between us."
"When I meet her, then," said McTavish, "I shall first tell her that she is beautiful, and amusing, and good. And then," it came from him in a kind of eager, boyish outburst, "I shall ask her to marry me."
Miss MacNish gasped and stepped backward into the fine and deep soil that gave the larkspur its inches. The color left her cheeks and returned upon the instant tenfold. And it was many moments before she could find a word to speak. Then she said in an injured and astonished tone: "Why?"