"Yes, I will; I'm going right away," she said, with the deference to his least wish which so often gave him a heartache. "You'll be in this evening? Of course you will. Thank you so very, very much for the roses." She watched him go down the steps, waving her hand to him as she closed the door, and then, with the roses still in her hat and at her throat, walked toward the river-bank, whispering a gay little song to herself. It was such a bright day! she was so glad "the winter was over and gone!" how good and kind everybody was! how grateful she ought to be! III. "I wish," said Mr. Symington bitterly, "that I could find a commodious desert island containing a first-class college and not a single girl. I would have the island fortified, and death by slow torture inflicted upon any woman who managed--as some of them would, in spite of all precautions--to effect a landing." "But the married girls are so stupid, my dear boy," ejaculated his room-mate, Mr. Fielding. "You must admit that, if one must have either, the single ones are decidedly preferable, or at least the young single ones." "Don't try to be funny," said Symington savagely: "you only succeed in being weak. I have"--and he pulled out a note-book and glared at its contents--"an engagement to take two to a concert this evening, other two to a tennis-match on Saturday, and another one out rowing this afternoon. And it's time for me to go now." "It strikes me _you've_ been pretty middling weak," commented Fielding. "Either that, or you're yarning tremendously about its being a bore: you can take your choice." "I leave it with you," said Symington wearily. "That Glover girl is probably cooling her heels on the bank, and I must go." "Alas, my brother! it is long since one of those Glover girls captured me!" The victim was a little late for his engagement, but no indignant Glover girl lay in wait for him. The bank, green with the first soft grass of spring, was deserted. Had she come and gone? He arranged himself comfortably in the boat and began to sing, the balmy air and the surroundings suggesting his song,-- Oh, hoi-ye-ho, ho-ye-ho, who's for the ferry? and went through the first verse, beginning softly, but unconsciously raising his voice as he went on, until, as he came to the second, he was singing very audibly indeed, and Rosamond, standing on the bank, looking uncertainly about her for the old boatman, was in time to hear, She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat, With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry,-- "And sure and you're welcome to Twickenham town."