“Sarah? That is one of the servants, isn’t it? A gaunt, shrewd-looking person? I’ve often met her on the road to and from Beaconsburgh.” “Yes. She goes out when she likes, I think. She is a very important person in the household, much more so than Mrs. Rayner.” “Oh! And she is a trouble to you?” “Yes; I’m afraid of her. She doesn’t like me. And whenever I used to give her letters to post I never got any answers to them.” “Does Mr. Rayner like her?” “Like her? I don’t think any one could like Sarah, except, of course, her ‘young man.’ That doesn’t count. But Mr. Rayner thinks a great deal of her.” “So a young man’s liking doesn’t count?” “Of course Tom Parkes is prejudiced in her favor,” said I, preferring that the talk should remain personal. “Surely it is a compliment to a woman that a young man should be prejudiced in her favor?” said he, preferring that the talk should become abstract. “He must have finished by this time!” I cried; and a vigorous thump on the counter did at last bring in Mr. Bowles, who declared it was the first sound he had heard. I was sorry to find that he had several of the things I wanted, as everything he sold was of the worst possible quality; and, while he was doing them up, Mr. Reade found an opportunity to whisper-- “You got my flowers?” “Yes, thank you; it was very kind of you to send them.” “Bring them,” corrected he. “What did you do with them?” I remembered the fair-haired girl and my resolve to be discreet. “I put them in water, and when they were dead I threw them away.” “Threw them away?” “Yes, of course; one doesn’t keep dead flowers,” said I calmly; but it hurt me to say it, for the words seemed to hurt him. It is very hard to be discreet. He said no more, but took his parcel and left the shop, saluting me very coldly. I had taken up my parcel, and was going out too, when Haidee’s soft voice broke in. “You’ve got Mr. Reade’s marbles, and he has gone off with mamma’s wool and the curtain-hooks, Miss Christie!” I had not noticed this. “How stupid of him!” I exclaimed. He had marched off so fast that I had to run down the lane after him before he heard me call “Mr. Reade!” We laughed a little at the embarrassment he would have felt if he had produced a ball of wool and curtain-hooks as the result of his morning’s shopping, and I if I had gravely presented Mrs. Rayner with a bag of marbles. And then, remorseful and blushing, I said hurriedly-- “I did keep one of the roses, Mr. Reade--the one with the note on it;” and then I ran back to Haidee, without looking up. Whether he was engaged or not, I could not be ungracious about those lovely flowers. Then Haidee and I went home to dinner. I had met Mr. Reade quite by accident, and I had done nothing wrong, nothing but what civility demanded, in exchanging a few words with him; but I was glad Haidee was not one of those foolish prattling little girls who insist upon chattering at meal-times about all the small events of the morning’s walk.