"She is in the garden arranging bouquets for the vases. She expects several of the young people, from the village to pa.s.s the evening here."

"I hoped she would have no visitors this evening," commented Fred, a shadow crossing his handsome face.

"She invited them because she was quite sure you would be here, and, Fred, I hope you will divide your attentions among the girls, and not devote them to one of them, as you have a habit of doing. You know that you care for no one long at a time, so why do you give them reason for thinking you are in earnest?"

"Now, mother, that is cruel!" exclaimed Fred, reddening, while his dark eyes sparkled with amus.e.m.e.nt. "You will blight my prospects if you proclaim me fickle. I am afraid an earnest girl would be influenced by your opinion of me, and doubt my sincerity should I offer my hand and heart."

"The idea of a boy making an offer of his hand and heart!" laughed Mrs.

Warfield.

"Twenty-one next fall, just in time to cast my first vote! Lots of fellows are settled in life at that age," and he gayly left the room in search of Hilda.

He did not follow the straight course, but instead took a circuitous path to the arbor, where sat Hilda upon a rustic chair, the table before her covered with flowers, and all framed in by the vine-covered arch.

Very deftly her fingers were adding sweet to sweet, apparently unconscious that a pair of handsome eyes were regarding her with admiration. Her simple gown of dark blue material fitted her graceful figure to perfection, and was finished at throat and wrists with filmy white frills. From the pocket of her white ap.r.o.n peeped the handles of bright scissors, and a broad-brimmed sun hat lay on the bench beside her. Her luxuriant hair was bound by a narrow crimson ribbon, and a crimson rose upon her breast cast its warm glow upon her rounded cheek.

This costume was considered by Fred as the most becoming of any in which he had seen her, yet he called to mind that he had thought the same of every toilet in which she appeared, only that the sunlight flickering through the leaves made the picture more lovely.

An incautious step upon a stick which snapped under the pressure betrayed his near approach. Hilda smiled but did not look up.

"Come in, Cousin Fred," she said; "don't be timid."

"How did you know it was Cousin Fred?" he asked, taking the hand she offered.

"I saw you when you left the house. You reminded me forcibly of the ostrich of school-book renown."

"Will you make a boutonniere for me to wear this evening?" he asked, laughing, in spite of his wish to frown.

"Certainly! I have just finished one for Cousin Paul. See the little beauty," and she took it up and inhaled its fragrance.

"Why do you bother to make one for Paul?" he asked, his smile becoming less p.r.o.nounced. "You know he is engaged."

"Because, like yourself, he is, by courtesy, my cousin."

"But Miss Lura De Cormis is the one to make bouquets for him, leaving you at liberty to make them for me, as I am not fortunate enough to claim a lady-love."

"Were Paul in Philadelphia or Miss Lura here, I am sure there would be no need for me to make a boutonniere for him; but she has gone to purchase her trousseau. Had you forgotten that, Cousin Fred?"

"I should say not, when I am to be best man, and you Miss Lura's bridesmaid."

"I would like more foliage for this large bouquet. Will you please get it for me?" and she gave him the scissors.

He obeyed her with a lingering glance upon the fair face bending over the flowers, and a resolve to tell her what was in his heart, for "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," and it came as natural for Fred Warfield to speak of love to a pretty girl as it is for a broker to discuss the rise and fall of stocks, or an artist the lights and shades of a new study. In truth, it was his chief amus.e.m.e.nt, and practice had made him perfect.

Just now, however, he was ill at ease, and in his own eyes awkward and uncouth as, leaning against the door frame of the arbor, he watched Hilda's active fingers add the foliage to the artistically arranged bouquet.

"You are very beautiful, cousin," he said almost involuntarily.

"I know it," she replied serenely, without glancing in his direction.

Fred gazed upon her in undisguised astonishment.

"This is not new to you; you have been told so by others," he said.

"By admiring glances and appreciative smiles, never in words."

"Do you consider it good form, Cousin Hilda, to express your opinion of your own beauty?" he inquired of her, with commendable hesitation.

"If you remember, cousin, it was not I who expressed the opinion; I only agreed with yours," and she gave minute attention to the placing of colors in the second bouquet.

"Yes," he responded uneasily, "but suppose someone else should tell you; some stranger, for instance. It would not be good form to agree with a stranger's opinion."

"Thank you, cousin; you are very thoughtful, and I mean it for your comfort when I suggest that a stranger will not be at all likely to comment upon my beauty in my presence. That bridge is so far out of my lat.i.tude there is not the least danger of my having to cross it."

"You are so indifferent to me and my opinions. Cousin Hilda! You keep me quite out of spirits."

"I do not wish that; instead, I hope to see you in your very best spirits this evening, and willing to charm us with your choicest pieces on piano and mandolin. I wish I were the accomplished musician you are.

You cast me in the shade."

"You will soon surpa.s.s me. Professor Ballini remarked the last time that he went back to Springfield in the train with me that 'Meesh Heelda haf ze exqueesite taalent for ze moozique; she is one woondare.'"

Fred was a good mimic. Hilda laughed heartily at the expression of face and tone of voice a.s.sumed for the occasion.

"Oh, Fred, I hope I won't think of you when I take my next lesson!" she said, wiping away tears of mirth with her handkerchief.

"You never wish to think of me; I am only Cousin Fred to you."

"Oh, yes, I do think of you, and am grateful for it is you who merit the praise for any progress I have made in music. You gave me such thorough instruction in the rudiments that my progress could not fail in pleasing Signor Ballini. You have been very kind to me."

"Then why not show a little interest in me? You know that I care for no one but you!"

"Oh, Fred, I should, instead, try not to have interest in you, except as a cousin!" replied the girl, flushing deeply as she bowed her head over her work.

"Why should you try? We are suited to each other in age, position and disposition!" was his quick reply.

"Not in disposition; you have not my quick temper."

"Temper, Cousin Hilda!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred in surprise. "We have never seen the least evidence of it."

"Because there has been no occasion; and, moreover, I have been taught to control it. Dear Aunt Merryman saw many an evidence of it."

"But we are wandering from the subject in hand. Have you forgotten that I asked you to care for me, and told you that I cared for no one but you?"

"No, I have not forgotten, but you have said the same to so many girls that I do not put much confidence in it."

"Now, cousin, that is too cruel, and I know who told you. It was Celeste Prettyman."

"Have you been flirting with her, too, Cousin Fred? She thinks you very handsome, and wonders that you are so much handsomer than Paul, when the same description answers for both."