“Have I done that? I believe I have. I beg your pardon, Miss Holly! Really, I had no intention of being—what shall I say?—familiar.”
“Oh, it isn’t that,” replied Holly earnestly, “but it makes me feel so terribly young! If you’d like to call me Holly, you may.”
“Thank you,” answered Winthrop as they entered the gate and passed into the noonday twilight of the oleander path. “But that is a privilege I don’t deserve, at all events, not yet. Perhaps some day, maybe the day I dance at your wedding, I’ll accept the honor.”
“Just see how many, many roses are out!” cried Holly.
They went on to the house in silence.
Dinner was a pleasanter meal for Winthrop than breakfast had been, principally because the Major and a Miss Virginia Parish, a maiden lady of uncertain age and much charm of manners, were present. The Major observed and resented Julian’s polite disregard of Winthrop and after dinner took him to task for it. The ladies were in the parlor, Winthrop had gone up-stairs to get some cigars, and the Major and Julian were at the end of the porch. It was perhaps unfortunate that Winthrop should have been forced to overhear a part of the conversation under his window.
“You don’t treat the gentleman with common civility,” remonstrated the Major, warmly.
“I am not aware that I have been discourteous to him,” responded Julian in his drawling voice.
The Major spluttered.