handshake, but he did not notice her. He
was watching the dark girl talking to Callandar.

"What is so rare as a day in June?" said Willits, with deliberate
malice.

"Ah, yes, very much so. Delighted to have met you. You will excuse me,
I'm sure. Annabel," with an impatient glance toward a stout, awkward
woman in the background, "if you are not quite ready I think Miss Coombe
and I will walk on." He moved toward the dark girl as he spoke and
Willits followed.

"Then I'll have to come some other day to get the roses," they heard
Callandar say. "But remember I haven't a single flower in the office. So
it will have to be soon."

"At any time," answered the girl, flushing slightly.

"No flowers?" repeated the minister, a little fussily, "dear me, I will
speak to my sister. Annabel will be delighted to send you any quantity,
Doctor. You must really drop in to see our garden, some day. Sunday, of
course, is a busy day with me. Come, Miss Esther. Good morning, Doctor.
Good morning, Professor. Glad to see you at our services any time--"

Bowing courteously, the minister moved away, followed perforce by Miss
Coombe. (An invitation to lunch at the manse is an honour not to be
trifled with.) Perforce also the doctor stood aside and Willits caught
the look, half shy, half merry, which the girl threw him from the depths
of her remarkable eyes. It was really quite interesting, and rather
funny. Not often had he seen fair ladies carried off from under the nose
of Henry Callandar. Transferring his glance quickly to the face of his
friend, he hoped to surprise a look of chagrin upon his abashed
countenance, but the countenance was not abashed, and the look which he
did surprise there startled him considerably. Henry Callandar, of all
men, to be looking after any girl with a look like that!

Well, he had been invited to come and see. And he had seen.

CHAPTER XVI

As Esther walked away, demurely acquiescent, by the side of the Rev. Mr.
Macnair she was conscious of a conflict of emotions. The sight of the
doctor's disappointed face as he stood hat in hand, awoke regret and
perhaps a trifle of girlish gratification. She had been sorry herself to
miss that half hour among the roses but she was still too young and too
happy to know how few are such hours, how irrevocable such losses. Also,
it had seemed good to her maidenly pride that Dr. Callandar should
know--well, that he should see--just exactly what he should know and