Face to Face
With that, she sailed triumphantly out of the room, closing the door with a bang which had in it the sound of finality. Poor Miss Matilda gazed dreamily out of the window, treasuring the faint, fragrant memory of her lost romance. "If Rosemary has got a beau," she said to herself, "I hope she won't let Ma scare him away from her."
At the post-office, Rosemary met Alden, face to face. She blushed and stammered when he spoke to her, answered his kindly questions in monosyllables, and, snatching The Household Guardian from the outstretched hand of the postmaster, hurried away.
Presently he overtook her. "Please, Rosemary," he said, "give me just a minute. I want to talk to you. I haven't seen you for a long time."
"Yes?" She stopped, but could not raise her eyes to his face.
"I can't talk to you here. Come on up the hill."
"When?" The girl's lips scarcely moved as she asked the question.
"Now. Please come."
"I'll—I'll have to go home first, with this," she replied, indicating the paper. "Then I'll come."
"All right. I'll go on ahead and wait for you. Shall I tie the red ribbon to the tree?" He spoke thoughtlessly, meaning only to be pleasant, but the girl's eyes filled. She shook her head decisively and neither of them spoke until they reached the corner where she must turn.