"Sweets to the sweet!" she gayly cried. "And what, pray, was Miss Henderson?"
"Don't spare me, Mr. Held," said Lucy, as he looked at her with a little hesitation.
"An apple."
"And Mrs. Hopeton?"
"A date-palm," said Philip, fixing his eyes upon her face. She did not look up, but an expression which he could not interpret just touched her lips and faded.
Now, it's your turn, Miss Held," Elwood remarked: "what were we men?"
"O, Philip a prickly pear, of course; and you, well, some kind of a nut; and Mr. Asten—"
"A cabbage," said Joseph.
"What vanity! Do you imagine that you are all head,—or that your heart is in your head? Or that you keep the morning dew longer than the rest of us?"
"It might well be," Joseph answered; and Madeline felt her arm gently pinched by Philip, from behind. She had tact enough not to lower her pitch of gayety too suddenly, but her manner towards Joseph became grave and gentle. Mrs. Hopeton said but little: she looked upon the circling hills, as if studying their summer beauty, while the one desire in her heart was to be away from the spot,—away from Philip's haunting eyes.
After a little while, Philip seemed to be conscious of her feeling. He left his place on the opposite side of the track, took Joseph's arm and led him a little aside from the group.
"Philip, I want you!" Joseph whispered; "but no, not quite yet. There is no need of coming to you in a state of confusion. In a day or two more I shall have settled a little."
