"Would you like some roses to put with the violets?" said Carrie, making a careful calculation.
"Roses, miss? That would be prime, and very seasonable, wouldn't they miss?"
"Yes, violets and roses look very pretty together, and I'll pin them into your hat and furbish it up. And, look here, Maggie, you can go out with your young man on Sunday. I'll manage it—I can. I will stay at home."
"Oh, Miss Carrie, you don't mean it?"
"Yes, I do. I'll manage it; but I'll do it only on a condition."
"What is that miss?"
"That you don't every ask me another question with regard to that letter, and that you never, never on any account breathe a word of it to Elma. If you do, why——"
"Oh, Miss, it don't seem fair."
Poor honest Maggie walked to the window and struggled for a few minutes with her temptation. The thought, however, of roses to add to the violets, the thought also of Joe, whom she dearly loved, to walk with her on the following Sunday, proved far too seductive. She struggled with her enemy for a few minutes, and then she fell once and for all.
"I'll have the roses, Miss Carrie. I can't resist them and the thought of Joe on Sunday. Joe is so passionate loving, miss, I can't resist 'im." And then Maggie rushed out of the room.