“Did you want some of those?” said Ralph, eagerly.
“I will pick them for you. I know quite well how I can manage. See,” he added eagerly, “do you notice that willow tree growing right over the pond? I will climb along that branch, just where it dips so near the water, and I’ll put my hand out, and cut off some of the beautiful blossoms for you. Aren’t they just lovely?”
“Yes,” said Harriet, “but I don’t want them. Don’t endanger your precious life for me, Ralph, it isn’t worth while.”
As Harriet spoke, she turned away, marching with her head in the air in the opposite direction. She heard a cry, or fancied she heard one; and a minute afterwards, eager steps followed her.
“Harriet,” said Ralph’s little voice. He slipped his hand inside her arm. “What has I done? Why do you hate me, Harriet? What has I done?”
Harriet looked round. Then for a minute she stood quite still. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes fell; they fell until they reached the brown beseeching eyes of Ralph. Over her whole heart there rushed such a sensation of love for the boy that she could not restrain herself another moment.
“Oh, Ralph!” she said, with a sob. “I am about the nastiest girl in all the world. But I do, I do love you! Oh Ralph, Ralph!”
She flung her arms around him, dropping on her knees to come nearer to him. Just for a minute, she gave him a fierce kiss; then she let him go.
“It is Robina I hate,” she said; “it is not you.” Ralph gave a sigh.
“I am glad you don’t hate me,” he said, “’cause you see I love you.”