Nevertheless he managed to make the drive a fascinating experience to
Ted and a diverting one to himself. And on the way home they stopped at
the West Wood marshes to gather a great bunch of trilliums as big as
Ted's head.
"I'll take 'em to Rob," said her younger brother. "She likes 'em better than any spring flower."
"Take my bunch to Mrs. Stephen Gray then. And be sure you don't get them mixed."
"What if I did? They're exactly the same size." Ted held up the two nosegays side by side as the car sped on toward home.
"I know, but it's of the greatest importance that you keep them straight. That left-hand one is yours; be sure and remember that."
Ted looked piercingly at his friend, but Richard's face was perfectly grave.
"Must be you don't like Rob, if you're so afraid your flowers will get to her," he reflected. "Or else you think so much of Rosy you can't bear to let anybody else have the flowers you picked for her. I'll have to tell Steve that."
"Do, by all means. Mere words could never express my admiration for Mrs.
Stephen."
"She is pretty nice," agreed Ted. "I like her myself. But she isn't in it with Rob. Why, Rosy's afraid of lots of things, regularly afraid, you know, so Steve has to laugh her out of them. But Rob—she isn't afraid of a thing in the world."
"Except one."