Till she release thee
And bid unclose.
So, till day come
And she be risen,
Rest, rose, in prison
And heart be dumb!"

He snapped the stem and passed on, whistling the air of his ditty, and
twirling the rose between finger and thumb.

"Men are all ninnies," Ruby decided as she dropped the blind; "and I
thank the fates that framed me female and priced me high. Heigho! but
it's a difficult world for women. Either a man thinks you an angel, and
then you know him for a fool, or he sees through you and won't marry you
for worlds. If _we_ behaved like that, men would fare badly, I reckon.
Zeb loved me till the very moment I began to respect him: then he left
off. If this one . . . I like his cool way of plucking my roses,
though. Zeb would have waited and wanted, till the flower dropped."

She spent longer than usual over her dressing: so that when she appeared
in the parlour the two men were already seated at breakfast. The room
still bore traces of last night's frolic. The uncarpeted boards gleamed
as the guests' feet had polished them; and upon the very spot where the
stranger had danced now stood the breakfast-table, piled with broken
meats. This alone of all the heavier pieces of furniture had been
restored to its place. As Ruby entered, the stranger broke off an
earnest conversation he was holding with the farmer, and stood up to
greet her. The rose lay on her plate.

"Who has robbed my rose-bush?" she asked.