beside myself for _anything_."

"And I wouldn't have you any one beside yourself for _anything_," he
laughed, in the big, explosive voice that charmed Linnet every time
afresh.

XIV.

A TALK AND ANOTHER TALK.

"Life's great results are something slow."--Howells.

Morris had said good-bye with a look that brought sorrow enough in
Marjorie's eyes to satisfy him--almost, and had walked rapidly on, not
once turning to discover if Marjorie were standing still or moving toward
home; Mr. Holmes and Miss Prudence had promised to start out to meet her,
so that her walk homeward in the starlight would not be lonely.

But they were not in sight yet to Marjorie's vision, and she stood
leaning over the gate looking at the windows with their white shades
dropped and already feeling that the little, new home was solitary. She
did not turn until a footstep paused behind her; she was so lost in
dreams of Linnet and Morris that she had not noticed the brisk, hurried
tread. The white rose had fallen from her hair and the one at her throat
had lost several petals; in her hand was a bunch of daisies that Morris
had picked along the way and laughingly asked her to try the childish
trick of finding out if he loved her, and she had said she was afraid
the daisies were too wise and would not ask them.

"Haven't you been home all this time?" asked Hollis, startling her out of
her dream.

"Oh, yes, and come back again."

"Do you find the cottage so charming?"

"I find it charming, but I could have waited another day to come and see
it. I came to walk part of the way with Morris."

She colored, because when she was embarrassed she colored at everything,
and could not think of another word to say.

Among those who understood him, rather, among those he understood, Hollis
was a ready talker; but, seemingly, he too could not think of another
word to say.

Marjorie picked her daisies to pieces and they went on in the narrow foot
path, as she and Morris had done in the afternoon; Hollis walking on the
grass and giving her the path as her other companion had done. She could
think of everything to say to Morris, and Morris could think of
everything to say to her; but Morris was only a boy, and this tall
stranger was a gentleman, a gentleman whom she had never seen before.

"If it were good sleighing I might take you on my sled," he remarked,
when all the daisies were pulled to pieces.

"Is Flyaway in existence still?" she aske