She gathered a rose, pulled it to pieces viciously, as if it had been the pert maid she was demolishing, then sighed impatiently:
"Heigh-ho, how slow he is coming!"
The gate latch clicked, and she sprang up with a start, her eyes flashing, her heart throbbing with joy.
She looked out, and saw the figure of a man coming along the graveled walk.
As he came opposite she started forward, crying sweetly:
"Oh, Jesse, dear, is that you?"
The man stopped and faced her. It was her father, and he laughed merrily:
"Not Jesse, dear; but papa, dear!"
Roma recoiled in bitter disappointment, and said petulantly:
"Jesse promised to come. Have you seen him?"