“No, I can’t say I have done that.”
“Till you have, you cannot say that the golden flower and the silver flower spring from one root.”
“It isn’t only the peninks, Kitty—can’t you understand?”
“I do not. You are very wonderful to-day.”
“I want to talk to you in the orchard.”
“You can say what it is, here.”
“No,[“No,] I cannot. I want to show you the silver peninks, and I want to say”—he let go her hand, with which he had been sawing.
Kate looked round. It would be considerate to leave the poor woman alone with her children to get settled into her new quarters, and she desired to escape another outburst of gratitude.
“Well, Jan, I will go and look at the flowers, and I hope to show you your mistake—the withered heads of daffodil[daffodil] apart from the bursting bud of the penink.”
The two young people walked together down the lane to the gate into the orchard. Jan threw this open, and Kate, without hesitation, stepped in.