"But the petals will not open, and I am left out," finished Kate, determined to be frank.
Grace looked out of the window again, and was about to reply, when a rap at the door startled them both. It was a boy with a note. "Miss Grace Hall?" he said, handing it to her.
Grace looked at the letter and then at the boy inquiringly. "I am to wait for an answer," he said.
"Oh," she murmured, in a dazed way, and hastened to find pen and paper for reply.
"More mystery! I declare, it is getting interesting," thought Kate, recovering herself, as she furtively watched the rosy face of Grace.
"Any answer?" asked the boy as he took the note.
"No." The door was shut and Grace sat down beside the picture she had been working upon, but presently arose and began pacing the room. Kate looked up at her as she passed, but said nothing. She could see that some deep thought was struggling for utterance, and wondered much.
After a few moments Grace stopped beside her. "I wish I might speak freely to you, Kathie, but—" she hesitated, "but it has never been natural for me to be confidential, and—"
She began her promenade again, but presently came back, and drawing her chair close up to Kate, told her the whole story, with long pauses and much hesitating speech.
"And now he is in the city; he—wants an answer. He has invited me to—ride with him—to-morrow."