"Now we must go back," said Dorothy.

"May I have a rose?" asked Richard, pointing to his blushing consignment
of that day, where they luxuriated in a giant vase.

"Don't touch my hands!" cried Dorothy fiercely, whipping them behind
her.

Richard gave his humble parole that he would not touch her hands. Being
reassured, Dorothy pinned a bud in his lapel. The little fingers were so
fondly confident of safety that they made no haste in these labors of
the bud. Their confidence went unabused; Richard adhered to his parole
and never touched them.

"I'm glad you can keep your promise!" said Dorothy, pouting from pure
delight.

Later, the pair made love to one another with their eyes across the
dignified desk of Senator Hanway, while that statesman told Richard
matters to the detriment of Mr. Hawke's canvass for a Speakership and
Governor Obstinate's claims upon a Presidency, of which, through the
medium of the _Daily Tory_, he believed the public should be informed.

"My dear Dorothy," observed the sibyl of the golden locks, when the
other related how faithfully Richard had kept his compact concerning her
fingers, "you ought never to make a man promise the thing you do not
want. They are such dullards; besides, they have a passion for keeping
their word."