The first dinner bell rang without her taking any notice of it, and the second was just about to sound, when there came a low tap at her bedroom door. At first she did not reply, but when it was repeated, though rather timidly, she called out, “Who is it? I am ill. I don’t want any dinner! I cannot come down!” A low voice answered. “It is _I_, dear Miss Brandt, Bobby! May I come in? Mamma has sent me to you with a message!” “Very well! You can enter, but I have a terrible headache!” said Harriet. The door opened softly, and the tall lanky form of Bobby Bates crept silently into the room. He held a small bunch of pink roses in his hand, and he advanced to the bedside and laid them without a word on the pillow beside her hot, inflamed cheek. They felt deliciously cool and refreshing. Harriet turned her face towards them, and in doing so, met the anxious, perturbed eyes of Bobby. “Well!” she said smiling faintly, “and what is your Mamma’s message?” “She wishes to know if you are coming down to dinner. It is nearly ready!” “No! no! I cannot! I am not hungry, and my eyes are painful,” replied Harriet, turning her face slightly away. The lad rose and drew down the blind of her window, through which the setting sun was casting a stream of light, and then captured a _flacon_ of eau de Cologne from her toilet-table, and brought it to her in his hand. “May I sit beside you a little while in case you need anything?” he asked. “No! no! Bobby! You will want your dinner, and your Mamma will want you. You had better go down again at once, and tell her that if my head is better, I will meet her on the Digue this evening!” “I don’t want any dinner, I could not eat it whilst you lie here sick and unhappy. I want to stay, to see if I can help you, or do you any good. I wish--I _wish_ I could!” murmured the lad. “Your roses have done me good already,” replied Harriet, more brightly. “It was sweet of you to bring them to me, Bobby.” “I wish I had ten thousand pounds a year,” said Bobby feverishly, “that I might bring you roses, and everything that you like best!” He laid his blonde head on the pillow by the side of hers and Harriet turned her face to his and kissed him. The blood rushed into his face, and he trembled. It was the first time that any woman had kissed him. And all the feelings of his manhood rushed forth in a body to greet the creature who had awakened them.