"I'm sorry I haven't got a glass," she said. "But the water is good."
The young man drank deeply, and then looked curiously at the mug. "I'd rather have this than a glass," he said. "It's quite a curiosity, ain't it? 'Be Merry!' Well, that's a good sentiment, I'm sure. Thank you, lady. I'm ever so much obliged."
"You no need to," responded Narcissa, civilly.
"I—I don't suppose you want any trees or plants to set out, do you?" said the stranger. "I am travelling for a house near Portland, and I've got some first-rate things,—real chances, I call 'em."
"I—guess not," said Narcissa, with an apprehensive glance over her shoulder. "I only keep house for the man here,—he's my father's uncle,—and he don't buy such things. I wish"—she sighed, and looked longingly at the black satchel. "I suppose you've got roses, have you, and all kinds of flowers?"
"I should think so!" replied the youth, proudly. "Our house is the greatest one in the State for roses. Let me show you some pictures." He opened the satchel and took out a black order-book filled with brilliant pictures.
"Oh!" cried Narcissa, "I—I guess I'd better not look at 'em. I don't believe he'd like it. Not but what I'm just as much obliged to you," she added, hastily.
But the stranger had already opened the book.
"Just look here, lady," he said. "Why, it can't do no manner of hurt for you to look at them. Just see here! Here's the Jacqueminot rose, the finest in the world, some folks think. Why, we've got beds and beds of it. Splendid grower, and sweet—well there! I can't give you any idea of it. Cornelia Cook! that's a great rose nowadays. And here's a white blush, that looks for all the world like—"
Here he stopped suddenly; for it was Narcissa's cheek that the rose was like, he thought, and it came to him suddenly that he did not want to say such things to this girl.