Then I pulled myself together and left them alone. I might have
gone in and talked to Sara...two old folks gently reviewing
their youth while the young folks courted outside...but I did
not. I prowled about the pine wood, and tried to forget how
blithe and handsome that curly-headed boy, Frank, was, and what a
flash had sprung into his eyes when he had seen Betty. Well,
what of it? Was not that what I had brought him there for? And
was I not pleased at the success of my scheme? Certainly I was!
Delighted!
Next day Frank went to Glenby without even making the poor
pretense of asking me to accompany him. I spent the time of his
absence overseeing the construction of a new greenhouse I was
having built. I was conscientious in my supervision; but I felt
no interest in it. The place was intended for roses, and roses
made me think of the pale yellow ones Betty had worn at her
breast one evening the week before, when, all lovers being
unaccountably absent, we had wandered together under the pines
and talked as in the old days before her young womanhood and my
gray hairs had risen up to divide us. She had dropped a rose on
the brown floor, and I had sneaked back, after I had left her the
house, to get it, before I went home. I had it now in my
pocket-book. Confound it, mightn't a future uncle cherish a
family affection for his prospective niece?
Frank's wooing seemed to prosper.
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