The girl looked up quickly into the honest dark eyes.
"It was Florence Fairfield that said it," she returned, speaking very rapidly.
Roger gave an uneasy laugh.
"Oh! you mean that about the 'Tiger-Lily'?"
"Yes," she answered, "and it's true. It's true as can be. See!" And for the first time the boy noticed that her gingham apron was filled with the fiery blossoms of the tiger-lily.
"See!" she said again, with an unchildish laugh, holding the flowers against her face.
Roger was not an imaginative boy, but he could not help feeling the subtle likeness between the fervid blossoms, strange, tropical outgrowth of arid New England soil, and this passionate child of mingled races, with her ruddy hair, and glowing eyes and lips. For a moment he did not know what to say, but at last, in his simple, boyish way he said:
"Well, what of it? I think they're splendid."
The girl looked up incredulously.