“I do not!” was the positive reply.
“Neither do I! Because John sent Anne a bunch of roses for her valentine but they were only seven dollars. She got a dozen, the usual short-stemmed Bride Roses. He wouldn’t dare send his sister such gorgeous ones and only give his fiancée cheaper ones.”
Sam Brewster smiled at his companion. “Nolla, you’re a wise little owl.”
“Anyone would be, after having had the social training that was fed to me from the bottle up!”
Mr. Brewster laughed at this, and Eleanor then said: “Guess I’ll be going back, now, Mr. Brewster. I wanted to know your opinion about John and the roses.”
“Wait, Nolla. Have you any answer to it yourself?”
“U—m, yes—I have a sort of a suspicion. But it isn’t fair to anyone to even hint at it. So don’t ask me.”
“This much you might answer, however, seeing that Ah’m Polly’s father and the most concerned in the beaux she has. Do you fancy it might have been your brother Pete?”
“Pete!” The very tone made Mr. Brewster smile as he saw that Eleanor had never thought of him. “Anyway, Pete and Poll hardly know each other.”
“Ah wonder if it could have been Paul Stewart—he seemed dreadfully attentive to her that time when we-all were visiting you-all in New York.” Mr. Brewster watched Eleanor shrewdly.