[118] [118] “Good-morning, Miss Holly,” he said. “Good-morning,” answered Holly, and, having won her prize started to straighten up. “I hope——” But instead of finishing the polite inquiry she said “Oh!” A branch of the rose-bush had caught in her hair, and the more she tugged the more firmly it held. “Still a moment,” said Winthrop. He leaned over and disentangled the thorns. “There you are. I hope I didn’t pull very hard?” “Thank you,” murmured Holly, raising a very red face. Winthrop, looking down into it, smiled; smiled for no particular reason, save that the morning air was very delightful, the morning sunlight very warm and cheering, and the face before him very lovely to look at. But Holly, painfully aware of her burning cheeks, thought he was smiling at her blushes. “What a silly he must think me!” she reflected, angrily. “Blushing every time he comes near!” She busied herself with the roses for a moment. [119] [119] “You’ve got more than you can manage, haven’t you?” asked Winthrop. “Suppose you entrust them to me; then you’ll have your hands free.” “I can manage very nicely, thank you,” answered Holly, a trifle haughtily. Winthrop’s smile deepened. “Do you know what I think, Miss Holly?” he asked. “No,” said Holly, looking about her in a very preoccupied way in search of more blossoms. “I think you’re a little bit resentful because I’ve come to share your Eden. I believe you were playing that you were Eve and that you were all alone here except for the serpent.” “Playing!” said Holly, warmly. “Please, how old do you think I am, Mr. Winthrop?” “My dear young lady,” answered Winthrop, gravely, “I wouldn’t think of even speculating on so serious a
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