"Ha! ha! just so. And I reckon you have roses with terrible sharp things about them which say as plainly as words can do, 'hands off,' haven't you?"
"He-he-he, sharp-toed slippers," squeaked a piping voice from the stairs where they were passing.
"Yes, and see how you like it," exclaimed Rose, making a spring towards him, but with the sprightliness of a squirrel he darted behind a heavy post of the balustrades, which unfortunately for the occupant of that dainty slipper received the full force of the blow that was not designed for it.
"I like it, Missus," called back the provoking little rascal, as he scrambled on all fours up the broad stairway.
"I'll pay him off," exclaimed Rose, excited with pain and anger. "If I was not so hungry I would do it now."
The laugh became general, and to avoid further remark the young lady joined in with them. Yet her cheek burned and she found it difficult to throw aside the unpleasant incident or make herself believe that George St. Clair, who was unusually attentive to her, did not also remember. But the hour of feasting passed agreeably enough, and when the ladies arose to retire, the young gentleman, who seldom took wine, asked the privilege of going with them. This broke up the after dinner tete a tete, and they all returned to the parlor. Anna stood by the window looking out over the beautiful landscape, when a voice near her asked in low tones:
"Are you very unhappy here, Anna?" She hesitated a moment before answering, as she looked into the manly face beside her. It was full of truth and anxiety.
"I am very happy, and have to thank you for my pleasure," was the quiet response.
"I feared I should have to crave your pardon, as I perceive that Miss Rose does not look upon you kindly."
"You may think it strange, but even this does not give me pain; it only amuses me."