"Is that a regiment you've got camping in the garden, Rose Mary?"
asked Everett as he came up the front walk in the moonlight some two
hours later and found Rose Mary seated on the top of the front steps,
all alone, with a perfectly dark and sleep-quiet house behind her.

Rose Mary laughed and tossed a handful of the pink blow she had
gathered over his shoulder. "Did you have your supper at Bolivar?" she
asked solicitously. "I saved you some; want it?"

"Yes, I had a repast at the Citizens', but I think I can manage yours
an hour or two later," answered Everett as he seated himself beside
her and lighted a cigar, from which he began to puff rings out into
the moonlight that sifted down on to them through the young leaves of
the bloom-covered old tree. "You weren't afraid of frost such a night
as this, were you?" he further inquired, as he took a deep breath of
the soft, perfume-laden air.

"I'm not now, but a cool breeze blew up about sundown and made me
afraid for my garden babies. Now I'm sure they will all wilt under
their covers, and you'll have to help me take them all off before you
go to bed. Isn't it strange how loving things make you afraid they
will freeze or wilt or get wet or cold or hungry?" asked Rose Mary
with such delightful ingenuousness that a warm little flush rose up
over Everett's collar. "Loving just frightens itself, like children in
the dark," she added musingly.

"And you saved my supper for me?" asked Everett softly.

"Of course I did; didn't you know I would?" asked Rose Mary quickly,