can set the dogs on him then--sixteen, seventeen, eighteen--dear
me, this is becoming interesting."

The plumules were blowing off freely now, like snow from the eaves
on a windy day in winter.

"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one--I must reverence my elders. If I
don't blow stronger he'll turn out to be fifty--twenty-three,
twenty-f--"

A shadow fell across the daintily-held dandelion and lay a blue
patch on the grass. Only one pale grey star stood erect on the
stem, the vacant green sheathing of the calyx turning suddenly
down.

"TWENTY-FOUR!--" said Ralph Peden quietly, standing with his hat
in his hand and an eager flush on his cheek. The last plumule
floated away.

Winsome Charteris had risen instinctively, and stood looking with
crimson cheeks and quicker-coming breath at this young man who
came upon her in the nick of time.

He was startled and a little indignant. So they stood facing one
another while one might count a score--silent and drinking each
the other in, with that flashing transference of electric sympathy
possible only to the young and the innocent.

It was the young man who spoke first. Winsome was a little
indignant that he should dare to come upon her while so engaged.