Annie was all he had believed her--charming in every way. Edgar made a confidant of his friend; told him what Edward well knew before, but was wise enough not to explain the mistake--of his hopes and fears; and won from the prudent brother the promise to help him all he could. Accompanying Annie home that evening, and gaining her permission for him to call again, Edgar lost no time in doing so, and often repeated the call. Perhaps Annie thought him very fast in his wooing, and precipitate in declaring his love, when, after only a fortnight visiting her, he said: "Annie, do you like me well enough, and trust in me sufficiently, to allow me to ask your mother to call me her son?" Either so happy or so surprised was Annie, that she could not speak just then. But roses crowded over her fair face, and she did not try to withdraw the hand he had clasped. "Say, Annie, love," he whispered. She raised her eyes to his with such a strange, surprised look in them, that he laughed and said: "You think I am very hasty, Annie. You don't know how long I've loved you, and have waited for this hour." "Long!--two weeks," she said. "Why, Annie, darling, it is over three months since I've been able to think of anything save Annie Grey--ever since the night I received my diploma, and your sweet, encouraging bouquet, since that night I've known and loved you. And how I've worked for this hour!" And then he told her how it was. And when he had finished, she looked at him, her eyes dancing merrily, and though she tried hard to keep the little rosebud of a mouth demurely shut, it was no use--it would open and let escape a rippling laugh, as she said: "And this is the work my bouquet went about, is it? This is the good it has done me--" She hesitated; the roses deepened their color as she continued: "And you--" "Yes, Annie, it has done much good to me, and I hope to you too." "But, Edgar--" it was the first time she had called him thus, and how happy it made him--"I must tell you the truth--I never sent you a bouquet!" "No! oh, do not say so. Can there be another such Annie Grey?" "No; I am the one who sent the bouquet; but, Edgar, you received it through a mistake. It was intended for my brother-in-law, Edward!" "Stop, Annie, a moment-- Are you sorry that mistake was made? Do you regret it?" said Edgar, his voice filled with emotion. "No indeed, I am very glad you received it instead," Annie ingenuously replied; adding quickly, "But, please, do not tell Edward I said so." "No, no; I will not tell him that you care a little more for _Edgar_ than _Edward_. Is that it? May I think so, Annie?" She nodded her head, and he caught her to his heart, whispering: "Mine at last. My Annie, darling! What a blessed mistake it was! May I go to your mother, Annie?" "Yes; and I'll go with you, Edgar, and hear if she will admit those flowers did any good. She thought it a useless expenditure."