Lynn indulged in a loud laugh of astonishment, perplexity, and pleasure. He was as hard as a nail to be sure, but he did not object to lending Jill some flowers.
“I’ll lend ’em with pleasure,” he said; “but you s’prise me, Jill Robinson; I thought as you had a tidy lot of money put away.”
“So I had,” answered Jill, her lips beginning to quiver; “I had yesterday, but not this morning. When I looked for the money this morning it wor gone.”
“Stolen, does yer mean?”
“No, no; nothing o’ the sort—I can’t speak o’ it. Will yer lend me a few flowers, and let me go?”
“Gimme yer basket.”
Silas pulled it roughly out of the girl’s hand. He laid some wet grass in one corner, and arranged a pile of lilies on it; rose-buds, white, pink, cream-coloured followed; geraniums in every shade made up a brilliant bank in another corner. Masses of poppies filled the remaining space.
Silas had a knack of arranging flowers which could only be excelled by Jill herself. His great hands could touch the tiniest blossoms with a rare taste and a skill which produced surprising results.
“There!” he said suddenly. “I forgot the carnations! We’ll pop in a bunch here; they are wonderful for sweetness; they mind me o’ my mother. She had all their little ways. I’d like to tell you about her some day. Yere’s the baskit, and good luck to you! You’re a tidy lass—the only tidy one as comes to the market, and it’s a pleasure to see yer with the bits of flowers.”
“But,” said Jill, colouring and trembling, for sore as her heart was it could not help going out to such a basket of beauty, “I didn’t mean to have flowers like these. Why, there’s a sight more nor a guinea’s worth yere; and I only meant to have two or three shillings’ worth o’ the commoner sorts—poppies, and sich-like. I can make up field poppies and grasses to look wonderful, and I could sell ’em off quick, for the ladies like ’em for those new sort of heart drorin’-rooms as is all the go.”