She then gave us seats on each side of herself, and presented the gentlemen as they came up. I remember none of them except Captain Lovelace, who had the impudence to claim a previous acquaintance, and Mr. Cheriton, who came in just as the ceremony was concluded. He looked surprised, and, as it seemed to me, not very well-pleased, at finding us in such company.
I noticed in a moment that, while all the other gentlemen wore white rose-buds in their button-holes, he wore a red clove pink which Amabel had given him that very morning. I think Amabel saw it too, for she blushed and looked confused.
Lady Throckmorton's keen eyes flashed from one face to the other as if she suspected something.
"So you know my young visitors already, Mr. Cheriton," said she. "How is that?"
"We are neighbors, you know," answered Mr. Cheriton easily, "and as their parish priest and spiritual guide, it was my duty to make acquaintance with them."
I must say I was not pleased with the tone in which he spoke—as if his sacred profession were a thing to be joked about.
"And you ventured to come hither with a red flower in your button-hole!" continued the lady in the same bantering tone, which yet seemed to have a meaning in it.
"Red is my favorite color," answered Mr. Cheriton.
"I have heard it was a thrifty color—no doubt that recommends it," said one of the company with an undisguised sneer.
"You are right my lord, it is a thrifty color, and does not change, easily," answered Mr. Cheriton, dryly enough. "I have known many white roses turn red, but I don't know that I have ever seen a red one turn white."