breakfast," said Peter. "Doctors say it's very bad."

So he followed her in. Leonore became tremendously occupied in arranging
the flowers, Peter became tremendously occupied in watching her.

"You want to save one of those for me," he said, presently.

"Take one," said Leonore.

"My legal rule has been that I never take what I can get given me. You
can't do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is my
birthday."

"If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once," said
Leonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankind
can, and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when she
went to take her hands away, she found them held against the spot so
firmly that she could feel the heart-beats underneath.

"Oh, please," was all she said, appealingly, while Peter's rose seemed
to reflect some of its color on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to give it to me if you don't wish," said Peter,
simply. "But last night I sat up late thinking about it. All night I
dreamed about it. When I waked up this morning, I was thinking about it.
And I've thought about it ever since. I can wait, but I've waited so
long!"

Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held her
lips up to Peter.

"Still," Leonore said presently, when again arranging of the roses,
"since you've waited so long, you needn't have been so slow about it
when you did get it."

"I'm sorry I did it so badly," said Peter, contritely. "I always was
slow! Let me try again?"

"No."

"Then show me how?"

"No."

"Now who's obstinate?" inquired Peter.

"You," said Leonore, promptly. "And I don't like it."

"Oh, Leonore," said Peter. "If you only knew how happy I am!"

Leonore forgot all about her charge of obstinacy. "So am I," she said.
"And I won't be obstinate any more."

"Was that better?" Peter asked, presently.

"No," said Leonore. "That wouldn't have been possible. But you do take
so long! I shan't be able to give you more than one a day. It takes so
much time."

"But then I shall have to be much slower about it."

"Then I'll only give you one every other day."

"Then I shall be so much the longer."

"Yes," sighed Leonore. "You are obstinate, after all!"

So they went on till breakfast was announced. Perhaps it was foolish.
But they were happy in their foolishness, if such it was. It is not
profitable to write what they said. It is idle to write of the week
that follo