"Don't you like brown?" She was now looking down at her dress, with a little show of trouble in her eyes.
"I liked the brown of your arms," he answered.
The pin stopped; there was a puzzled look in her face.
"I'm afraid it's a very homely dress, anyway," said she, looking down upon it, as she moved her foot impatiently.
Her mother came out of doors. "Polly," said she, "you'd better go over to the post-office."
"May I go with her?" Trove inquired.
"Ask Polly," said the widow Vaughn, laughing.
"May I?" he asked.
Polly turned away smiling. "If you care to," said she, in a low voice.
"You must hurry and not be after dark," said the widow.