They looked at her. There was a fresh sweetness of another kind about that breakfast-table. They all felt it, and breathed more freely.
"Delicious cresses!' said Mrs. Rossitur.
"Yes; I wonder where they came from," said her husband. "Who got them?"
"I guess Fleda knows," said Hugh.
"They grow in a little stream of spring water over here in the meadow," said Fleda, demurely.
"Yes, but you don't answer my question," said her uncle, putting his hand under her chin, and smiling at the blushing face he brought round to view. "Who got them?"
"I did."
"You have been out in the rain?"
"Oh, Queechy rain don't hurt me, uncle Rolf."
"And don't it wet you either?"