“Unberufen!” she echoed. Then their glances met and they laughed together. He saw with relief that the dimples were not mere creations of his imagination; they were there, appearing and disappearing on the clear, soft cheeks. He held a withered spray of roses across the fence. “You are prepared to fulfil your promise?” he asked. “Are you sure I promised?” “Absolutely!” “I said _perhaps_.” “Impossible! Do you imagine that I would have got out of bed at six o’clock this morning, bolted my breakfast, and waited here under this absurd tree for nearly an hour and a half unless I had been certain of the reward?” [Illustration] “Really? But you don’t look hungry.” [Illustration] “I’m starved--for roses; absolutely famishing!” “How awful!” she exclaimed in awe-struck tones. “Wait, then.” She turned and looked about her over the laden branches. “Does your hunger demand any especial kind or color of rose?” “It does; it cries aloud for a large pink rose with one or two crushed petals.” “What a strange appetite you have! I’m afraid I can’t see one just filling those requirements.” She creased her forehead and looked the garden over. “May I help you?” he asked. “I wish you would.” “Then I will respectfully suggest that the rose you wear exactly fits the description. In fact, strange as it may seem, it appears to have been fashioned with that end in view.” He met her glance with one of serene and self-satisfied composure. Her eyes dropped to the blossom in question and she lifted it and examined it carefully. “It is strange,” she mused. “Here are the crushed petals and all.” He held out his hand. “But, then, there are larger roses and pinker ones, beyond doubt, and as for crushed petals--why, they are easily made.” She moved towards a bush of immense cabbage-roses and put forth her scissors. [Illustration] “One moment!” he cried. She turned, mutely questioning. [Illustration] “Appetites,” he went on plausibly, “are capricious things--mine especially. Having once set itself upon a certain thing it rejects all others, no matter how similar in outward appearance they may be. My hunger craves the rose you wear. I throw myself--and my hunger--upon your mercy! Be generous! You see before you a starving man!” She turned back with a little gesture of despair and slowly, hesitatingly, detached the blossom from her gown. “Of course I can’t refuse a starving man,” she said. “It would be quite impossible,” he answered. “And so”--she stretched the pink blossom out to him and he seized it greedily across the fence--“I shall take credit to myself for having saved your life,” she said soberly. [Illustration] “Please do so every minute of the day,” he begged. “And now----” He held forth the withered spray he had received the day before. But she shook her head. “I have so many fresh ones, you see.” “But it was a part of the bargain!” he pleaded.