That night when Evelina undressed she took a jonquil from the
vase and pressed it with a certain ostentation between the leaves
of her prayer-book. Ann Eliza, covertly observing her, felt that
Evelina was not sorry to be observed, and that her own acute
consciousness of the act was somehow regarded as magnifying its
significance.

The following Sunday broke blue and warm. The Bunner sisters
were habitual church-goers, but for once they left their prayer-
books on the what-not, and ten o'clock found them, gloved and
bonneted, awaiting Miss Mellins's knock. Miss Mellins presently
appeared in a glitter of jet sequins and spangles, with a tale of
having seen a strange man prowling under her windows till he was
called off at dawn by a confederate's whistle; and shortly
afterward came Mr. Ramy, his hair brushed with more than
usual care, his broad hands encased in gloves of olive-green kid.

The little party set out for the nearest street-car, and a
flutter of mingled gratification and embarrassment stirred Ann
Eliza's bosom when it was found that Mr. Ramy intended to pay their
fares. Nor did he fail to live up to this opening liberality; for
after guiding them through the Mall and the Ramble he led the way
to a rustic restaurant where, also at his expense, they fared
idyllically on milk and lemon-pie.

After this they resumed their walk, strolling on with the
slowness of unaccustomed holiday-makers from one path to another--
through budding shrubberies, past grass-banks sprinkled with lilac
crocuses, and under rocks on which the forsythia lay like sudden
sunshine. Everything about her seemed new and miraculously lovely