Jim gave her such a disgusted look that Nancy smiled in spite of her earnestness.
“And probably,” she added, “we’ll be able to see each other once or twice during the year. Then, if next June we both feel the same way as we do now, you may ask me again. Though, as a matter of fact, you haven’t yet asked me once.”
“Why Nancy, I did; I’m sure I did,” protested Jim so earnestly that she laughed.
“Why, Jim, you didn’t; I’m sure you didn’t,” she retorted. “You asked me to wait until you were making enough to take care of me.”
“Well, anyhow, you knew what I meant. But to make sure, if you must have it in so many words, Nancy, will you marry me?”
“Ask me that question on Commencement Day, and I’ll answer it.”
“Promise me one thing, Nan,” begged Jim very seriously; “that you won’t become engaged to anyone else until I have had my chance, again in June.”
“Of course, I’ll promise that; and—and Jim.”
“Yes?”
“If you find some other girl, and feel that you don’t want to ask me again, just mail to me the little spray of wild roses that Janie gave us on the Harbor ride that day—what ages ago it seems!—and I’ll understand.”