“I would be only too glad to lay the blame on your shoulders if I could lay Milly’s weakness there too,” returned the lady. “It is quite evident that you would never do for a nurse. Strong men like you have not sympathy enough to put yourself in the place of invalids, and think how they feel. I would scold you severely, sir, if you were not my guest. As it is, I will forgive you if you promise me not to mention the subject of botany in the presence of my niece for a week to come.”
“The condition is hard,” said Barret, with a laugh; “but I promise—that is, if Miss Moss does not force the subject on me.”
“I promise that, Mr Barret; but I also attach a condition.”
“Which is—?”
“That you go to Eagle Cliff some day this week, and find for me a particular plant for which I have sought for a long time in vain, but which I am told is to be found there.”
“Most willingly. Nothing could give me greater pleasure,” returned the youth, with an air of such eager enthusiasm that he felt constrained to add,—“you see, the acquisition of new and rare plants has been a sort of passion with me for many years, and I am quite delighted to find that there is a possibility of not only gratifying it here, but of being able at the same time to contribute to your happiness.”
They reached the house as he made this gallant speech, and Milly went straight to her room.
The only members of the household who sat down to luncheon that day were Mrs Gordon, Archie, the enthusiastic photographer, and Flo, with her black doll; and the only guest, besides Barret, was McPherson, the skipper of the lost yacht. The rest were all out rambling by mountain, loch, or stream.
“Milly won’t appear again to-day,” said the hostess, as she sat down. “I knew that she had overdone it. The shock to her system has been far too severe to admit of botanical discussions.”
Barret professed himself overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, and promised to avoid the dangerous subject in future.