HILDA. I hope so. They will unless Herbert's persuaded her to go hunting for flowers by moonlight. I wouldn't be as crazy over botany as he is for all the degrees the old university gives. [_She edges nearer him and, taking his hand in one of hers, draws his arm around her waist. Sighing._] Oh, dear! JAMIE [_bringing his face closer to hers_]. What is it--angel? HILDA [_with infinite--or, almost infinite, tenderness_]. Oh, nothing. I was only thinking about the day; how happy it has been. JAMIE [_tenderly_]. Has it been, dear? HILDA [_her head against his shoulder_]. You know it has--lovely--perfect! JAMIE. What made it? HILDA. You know what.... JAMIE No, I don't; tell me. What? HILDA [_with tender impatience_]. Why you, of course, foolish--because we were together, and all that.... JAMIE. Oh! HILDA. Now, what did you say "oh" for? JAMIE. I don't know--because I'm glad you enjoyed the day, I guess. HILDA. Did you want me to enjoy it--very much? JAMIE. Of course I did, dear; I want you to be happy all the time---- We are going to be happy always, aren't we? HILDA. Are we? JAMIE. Aren't we? HILDA [_tenderly_]. Y-e-s---- [_Their lips are very close. The moon rushes behind a cloud._] There! Now you've shocked the man in the moon! JAMIE. I guess he's used to it. I wish I had a dollar for all the times he's seen that! HILDA. And just think! There isn't a soul he can talk to about it! JAMIE. Maybe he tells Mars; you don't know. HILDA. Oh, Jamie, you ought to take course one in astronomy! Mars and the moon are miles and miles apart! JAMIE. Are they? HILDA [_tapping his hand_]. Yes, and you ought to know it. JAMIE. But I don't know as much as you do, dearie. HILDA. That's a very pretty speech, but you do, all the same. Sometimes I think you know just a little bit more. JAMIE. Well, I don't; besides, how could I? You're working for Ph. B., and I'll only get a cheap old B. L. HILDA. That's your own fault. You could have selected Ph. B. Herbert did. JAMIE. But Herbert knows more than I do, too. [_He grins, away from her._] HILDA. Why, Jamie, he doesn't either! He doesn't know _anything_ but botany. I'm glad you aren't an old prosy botanist. JAMIE. Maybe I'm not a very good botanist, but I've prided myself on my taste in flowers---- HILDA. Now what makes you say that? You don't know a cowslip from a hollyhock! JAMIE. Maybe not, but I fell in love with you, didn't I? HILDA [_snuggling very close_]. Dearest! [_Again the modest man in the moon hides his face behind a cloud._] JAMIE [_reminiscently_]. Do you remember what happened a month ago to-night? HILDA [_softly_]. Of course I do. JAMIE. What? HILDA [_more softly_]. You proposed. JAMIE [_stroking her hair_]. Where? HILDA. Why, where we were to-day--at Whitmore--in Mr. Stevens' sail-boat. JAMIE. Yes, that's so. I thought maybe you'd forgotten....