"Hey-oh, lady love!"
"Hello, Carrie! What were you doing in the woods?"
"That'd be telling," said Carrie, blushing and beaming because Evelyn was laughing at her, friendly and warm—because the cherry trees were so white and the sky so blue. "What's the lady doin' herself?"
"Getting ready to make an impression on an old beau."
"Now 'fess up!"
"Try to stop me! Ralph Levinson"
"Oh, my! The one whose sisters are Lady Clandugald and Lady Waller? That one?" cried Carrie, who never missed Society Across the Sea in the Sunday paper. "Do you know him?"
"Do I? I'll tell you a secret, Carrie—I nearly married him once. But I haven't seen him for a thousand years—not since I married Joe instead. He telephoned from Green Falls that he was motoring through, and he's coming to dinner. I haven't a thing to eat, but Joe has a bottle of really grand Bacardi. Cherry blossoms and cocktails and tender memories ought to see us through, don't you think?"
Carrie twisted off a few blossoming twigs the length of a pencil. "Here, lady dear, and look, you can have my wildflowers, too; there're some blue violets and spring beauties and dogtooth violets—I got them in the woods. Oh, Evelyn, isn't it lovely to-day? I never saw anything such a bright green as the skunk
