“That was certainly very kind of you, Al—Miss——”
“Take care, Gerald!” suddenly interposed the fair girl, as she raised a finger menacingly at him. “I will not be ‘missed’ by you—at least”—with a gleam of roguishness in her dancing eyes—“until I am gone for the summer, and then you may miss me as much as you like. See?”
And, detaching one of the three beautiful pink rosebuds from her corsage, she playfully tossed it at him, and with such unerring aim that it brushed his cheek with its fragrant petals, and then lodged upon his shoulder. Gerald captured it with a hand that tingled in every nerve.
“Yes, Allison, I see,” he said, smiling into the piquant face. “Thanks for this souvenir—I never saw anything more lovely.”
But he was not looking at the rose as he spoke—he was gazing straight into the blue eyes of beautiful Allison Brewster.
“Now will you promise to come to my party?” she asked, rising to go.
“Yes, if——”
“‘If!’” she repeated sharply, a quick flush mantling her face.
“If there is no extra work to be done and I can get off,” he explained.
“Of course you can get off on Saturday afternoon,” said the girl impatiently; then added appealingly: “Gerald, you must come—it will just spoil the whole thing for me if you do not. Now, good-by—tell papa I could not wait any longer. I have an appointment with my dressmaker at one, and I have a lot of shopping to do before that.”