“What’s the matter?” he said at last. “Have I hurt you--displeased you?” That passive gentleness of manner was rarely changed. “Won’t you tell me?” He placed his hand softly over hers that lay on the ground. Her lashes, delicate in their tinting, beat together, struggling to catch the tears that tried to overflow. She pulled away her hand and started to rise. The child’s heart was almost breaking and the rebellious tears that came, hot and fast, were dashed away by little, mad hands. “Oh, Esther, have I hurt you? Don’t, don’t! I’d rather you would strike me--anything but that.” He sprang to his feet and bent over her. “Are you disappointed in me. Have you found too many flaws? Is it because I must go away?” His soft, sad eyes regarded her uneasily. “If I am the cause, haven’t I a right to know?” “You oughtn’t to have to be told,” she said, with shamed frankness, when she could command her voice. “If I had meant to, I wouldn’t; that is my justification.” He touched her hair. “Come, this isn’t you--I always liked that straightforward way of yours. Don’t spoil our last day. Tell me, what’s the matter?” “That’s what stings--you not only thought little enough of them to throw them away; you forgot it.” There was a complaining note in her voice. It was less anger than grief she felt. Her head had the plaintive droop of a spoiled child asking consolation. “Do you mean the flowers on my boot; is that all?” Slipping one hand in his pocket and pulling out a few, bruised, draggled morning glories. An expression of joy flashed over her wet face. A faint, amused gleam shot into his serious eyes. “Tagger used them for a handle, and I thought their condition decided in favor of pressing rather than wearing. I saved the pieces you see.” “They were all the color of my dreams--I couldn’t help but think that was the way they would go some day.” “If I can help it, they won’t.” Taking out a notebook he dropped the flowers between its leaves. Her girlish illusions were dear to him. He wouldn’t destroy one of them. “Here, let me get your violin. Play for me, while I smoke.” She took it from him, and he began smoking, as she played for him the piece he had asked her to learn. He could see the confidence she had gained in herself. Patience was all that she lacked. “There is yet another one I want you to learn for me.” “What’s the use? I may never see you again. I don’t know that I’ll worry with it.” The thought of his going away met with resentment in her. She did not like to picture life with his companionship withdrawn. “Fiddledee humbug! I expect to see you again lots of times. Maybe I’ll spend Christmas day with the Curtises. I might come over awhile at that time if you would ask me. I am not going home just for a day. New York State is too far.” “I couldn’t divide you, I want the whole day or nothing.” Esther leaned her elbow on the violin case.