"Not a drop of rain to wet it, and no hard words to toughen it,
eh?"

"No, Dad."

She gave the answer a little hesitatingly. She was thinking of Ned
Landon. He caught the slight falter in her voice and looked at her
suspiciously.

"Been quarrelling with Robin?"

"Dear Dad, no! We're the best of friends."

He loosened his hand from her clasp and patted her head with it.

"That's right! That's as it should be! Be friends with Robin,
child! Be friends!--be lovers!"

She was silent. The after-glow warmed the tints of her hair to
russet-gold and turned to a deeper pink the petals of the roses in
the wreath she wore. He touched the blossoms and spoke with great
gentleness.

"Did Robin crown thee?"

She looked up, smiling.

"No, it's Larry's wreath."