He chatted along, telling her about his trip, recounting amusing little incidents of the things that had happened on the boat, and completely carrying her thoughts away from her own personal affairs. But after a little while she began to notice that he was really not thinking about what he was saying, that he seemed to have something on his mind, which he was always on the point of saying, and then veered off to something else. All at once he got up and remarked abruptly: "What the dickens do I care personally for chintzes and scrim? I don't know which is which." Nancy stared at him, thinking that he had taken leave of his senses. He rammed his long, brown hands fiercely into the pockets of his gray trousers, took them out again, and thrust them into the pockets of his coat; then, as if he had taken a deep breath, and was holding it, he said: "Will you marry me, Nancy?" She could not have uttered a word. She simply sat and stared at him. Then, without being conscious of a single idea in her head, she jumped up and made a dive for the door. He caught her hand and made her turn around and face him. He had begun to smile, slightly, and it was that gentle, wonderfully sweet smile, half-amused and half-tender, that made her blush from the yoke of her gingham dress up to the edge of her hair. "Well--will you?" "I--I don't know," stammered Nancy; with that she promptly turned and fled into the house. Mr. Arnold stood regarding the screen-door with a blank expression; then, after a moment or two, he walked away slowly. It was not until he had reached the gate that he remembered he had left his hat on one of the porch chairs. * * * * * Alma was sitting up. Wrapped in a pink blanket, with her yellow curls pinned on top of her head, where they nodded like the heads of daffodils, surrounded by her admiring family, including Hannah and the trained nurse, and a perfect garden of spring flowers, which had been arriving daily since the appearance of Mr. Arnold, she was convalescing visibly. "I didn't know that Mr. Arnold was back," said Alma, burying her small nose in a huge bouquet of white lilacs. "Isn't it perfectly dear of him to send these things, when I only met him once in my life?" Upon which guileless remark Nancy turned a lively and hopelessly noticeable scarlet. To make her embarrassment quite complete, Alma looked directly into her eyes and grinned deliberately. "I wonder why he takes such a tremendous interest in us?" she went on, mercilessly. "I feel it in my bones. I feel as if something perfectly scrumptious were going to happen." Mrs. Prescott laughed and kissed her. "Now, Nancy, come on, and 'fess up," was the bomb which Alma hurled without a word of warning. "I know perfectly well that you've got something on your conscience, and I've got a suspicion already that it's Mr. Arnold."