"Well, then, tell me one."
Uros thought for a while; he would have liked to ask her a very difficult one, but the thought of the kiss he might have for it, gave him a strong nervous pain at the back of his head.
"Well," said he, after a few moments' cogitation—"Who turns out of his house every day, and never leaves his house?"
She looked at him for a while with parted lips and eyes all beaming with smiles; nay, there was mischief lurking in her very dimples as she said:
"Why, the snail, you silly boy; everybody knows that hackneyed riddle." Then with the prettiest little moue: "It was not worth while leaving your country to come back with such a slight stock of knowledge. I hope you were not expecting a kiss for the answer?"
Uros was rather nettled by her teazing; he would fain have given her a smart answer, but he could find none on the spur of the moment. Besides, the sight of those two lips, as fresh and as juicy as the pulp of a blood-red cherry, made him lose the little wit he otherwise might have had; so he replied:
"And if I had?"
"You would have been disappointed; I don't give kisses for nothing."
"But you do give kisses?" he asked, faltering.
"When they are worth giving," in an undertone.