"Well, your father was married at nineteen. You've said it yourself, Rosa, and thought it greatly to his credit--at least Vint does."
"You can't imitate my father in that, at least."
"Ah! she's a perfect girl, but she's very young," and Dick eyed Rosa with ineffable complacency.
"No, no; I don't mean she's older than she looks; her mind is older than her looks."
"Women with minds make troublesome wives. I have refused to let Vincent marry several of that kind."
"But, my girl hasn't got that kind of mind; it is all sweetness and wit and gayety and loveliness and--and--"
"Oh, well, since love gave her to you, I don't see how I can be of any service. Down here the mother always gives the girl, unless she have no mother; then some other kin gives her. But if your girl has all these qualities you describe, I advise you to get her into your own keeping just as soon as you can, for that's the sort of girl all the fellows about here are seeking."
"Very well, I'm ready. Will you help me? It comes back where we started."
"What question did I evade? I answered like an encyclopedia!" Dick cried, immensely satisfied with his own readiness.
"That convicts you; an encyclopedia has nothing about living people."
"Oh, yes; the new ones do." Dick was now very near her as she stood contemplating the bees, swarming in the comb. "O Rosa--Rosa, you know I love you, and you know I can never love anybody else. Why will you pretend not to understand me? I don't want you to marry me now, but by and by, when I shall have made a name as a soldier, or--or something," he added in painful turbulence of joy and fear over the great words--which he had been racking his small wits to fashion for weeks past, and, now that they were spoken, were not nearly so impressive as he had intended they should be.
"My dear Richard, you are a perfect boy--a very delightful boy, too, and I am extremely fond of you--oh, very, very fond of you--but you really must not make love to me. It isn't proper," and Rosa glanced into his eyes with a tender little gleam, that gave more encouragement than rebuff--for it came into her mind, in a moment, that it was not a time to hurt the bright, eager love--so winning, if boyish.
"Nonsense, Rosa, it is perfectly proper; everybody makes love to you; Jack makes love to you, and he is as good as engaged--" But here it suddenly flashed in Dick's mad head that he was meddling, and he stopped short. Rosa had turned upon him with a flash of such scorn, such indignant pain, that he cried: