"The mixture is the trouble," he said, "with no one whom you can respect to guide you,—no power above. I feel better, naturally, than the Gov'ner."
Cecilia let that pass. "Orchids and hollyhocks in one bed," she said, "but in time I believe you'll come to love the homely honesty of hollyhocks,—those that thrive in all weathers. I believe you will, John. I do."
He got up and stretched. The new man had gone. She saw this, and rose with him. "Good-bye, dear," she said in a very everyday tone; "I'm glad you had a good time this afternoon."
In a flash he changed again. His arms closed about her soft body, and he kissed her. "Celie," he said huskily, "you're the best fellow!"
"Johnny," she answered, "you darling!" He gave her another squeeze, and released her. Then he was again the conscious boy. "This darn tie," he muttered, looking in a mirror; "it wads up rottenly!"
Cecilia left indifferently, but outside his door she turned and kissed a panel opposite her small head.
She wore the want-to-cry expression which so worried Jeremiah, but her eyes were happy. They looked like those of a little girl who holds the best beloved, just mended, doll, all fixed up, ready to love and spank some more, to scold, forgive, and kiss.
CHAPTER XIV
PINK
"You are an advocate of gum-chewing?" asked Miss Annette Twombly, with a faint, not too pleasant smile.