put a rosebud in his coat.

"Roses are more fit for you young people than for an old fellow like me,"
he said, "Why don't you give one to Percival?"

She looked over her shoulder at young Thorne. "Do you want one?" she said.

He smiled, with a slight movement of his head and his dark eyes fixed on
hers.

"Then, why didn't you pick one when we were out? Now, weren't you foolish?
Well, never mind. What color?"

"Choose for him," said Mr. Thorne.

Sissy hesitated, looking from Percival's face to a bud of deepest crimson.
Then, throwing it down, "No, you shall have yellow," she exclaimed: "Laura
Falconer's complexion is something like yours, and she always wears yellow.
As soon as one yellow dress is worn out she gets another."

"She is a most remarkable young woman if she waits till the first one is
worn out," said Percival.

"Am I to put your rose in or not?" Sissy demanded.

He stepped forward with a smile, and looked darkly handsome as he stood
there with Sissy putting the yellow rose in his coat and glancing archly up
at him.

Mr. Thorne from behind his _Saturday Review_ watched the girl who might,