Mr. Carter, following his eyes, saw the ancient wagonette entering the old gateway. Lucas was driving placidly, the old grays were ambling up the broad moss-grown driveway to the front door. Alone in the back sat a slim young figure. Virginia was reading a newspaper. Mr. Carter remembered that fearful item in the personals and cold perspiration stood out in beads on his forehead.
“I’ll have to go,” he said thickly. “I’m late now at the office. We’ve been all upset.”
“Better look at this San José scale,” said the colonel grimly, his eyes still on the wagonette.
Lucas had stopped half-way to the house and Virginia jumped down. She was coming toward them now. In one hand she held the newspaper, in the other some hothouse roses. Mr. Carter, making hot-foot for the gate, came full upon her.
“Why, Mr. Carter!” she smiled radiantly. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I—I stopped by to get a setting of leghorn eggs,” said Mr. Carter, mopping his forehead. “It’s a hot day, Virginia.”
She laughed. “I thought it was cool. Please take this rose to Mrs. Carter from me, won’t you? Mrs. Payson just cut them for me; they’re from her new greenhouse. She calls them ‘Kentucky Sunsets.’”
Mr. Carter took the rose and stumbled blindly for the open. He was suffocating with mortification. If William wasn’t engaged to her, he, Johnson Carter, had made a donkey of himself, and if William was engaged to her! Mr. Carter wiped his forehead again, absently thrust the rose inside the crown of his hat and set the hat firmly on his head with the rose leaves hanging out at the back—like the tail of a kite. They were still fluttering there as he plodded down the road toward his office, his face red and his heart sore.
Meanwhile, Colonel Denbigh had crossed the lawn to meet his granddaughter. Virginia gave him the newspaper without comment and retired to an old stone bench near the rustic table which served her grandfather as a writing-desk and refreshment table in summer time. She was engaged now in arranging Mrs. Payson’s roses while the colonel pretended to read the news. They both heard the horses going around to the stable and Lucas’ voice as he called to them to go into their stalls.
The colonel rustled the newspaper and laid it down. Then he took off his hat and pushed back his white hair. He was a brave man, but he was perspiring at every pore.