What Rose might have replied to this unexpected attack on one whom she reserved for her own especial torture cannot be recorded, for the Major suddenly appeared around the verandah. Both the young people instinctively straightened up.
"Ah! you rascals! I catch you!" he cried, his face glowing with jollity. "Jeff, you'd better look out,—honey catches a heap of flies, and sticks mighty hard. Rose, don't show him any mercy,—kick him, trample on him."
"I am not honey," said Rose, with a captivating look out of her bright eyes.
"Yes, you are. If you are not you are the very rose from which it is distilled."
"Oh, how charming!" cried the young lady. "How I wish some woman could hear that said to me!"
"Don't give him credit before you hear all his proverb," said Jeff. "Do you know what he said in the dining-room?"
"Don't credit him at all," replied the Major. "Don't believe him—don't listen to him. He is green with envy at my success." And the old fellow shook with amusement.
"What did he say? Please tell me." She appealed to Jeff, and then as he was about to speak, seeing the Major preparing to run, she caught him. "No, you have to listen. Now tell me," to Jeff again.
"Well, he said honey caught lots of flies, and women lots of fools."