ed to Squire Tutt's trouble in a very
few minutes, it seems," she hastened to add, as she glanced at a flask
that lay on the corner of the table.

"The Squire's trouble is chronic, and simply calls for refilled
prescriptions," he laughed, his generosity giving over the retort that
was his due. "I somehow think this matter of yours will prove obscure
and will call for time."

"It's a wedding dress I want you to prescribe for me," she hazarded a
bit too hurriedly, for before she could catch up with her own words he
had flashed her an answer.

"That depends!" was the victim's most skilful parry.

"Would you wear a white embroidery and lace or a rose batiste? A rose
hat and parasol go with the batiste, but the white is perfectly
delicious. You haven't seen either one, so I want you to choose by
guess." Only the slightest rose signal in her cheeks showed that she
had been pricked by his quick thrust. She had taken one of the damask
buds from her belt and was daintily nibbling at the folded leaves. Over
it, her eyes dared him to follow up his advantage.

"I don't know--I'll have to think about it," he answered her, weakly
capitulating, but still on guard. "If I choose one for to-day, when
will you wear the other? Soon?" he bargained for his forbearance.

"Whenever you want me to if you'd like to see it," she answered with
what he ought to have known was dangerous meekness. "What are you going
to wear?" she asked, putting the direct question with disarming
boldness.

"Blue serge Sunday-go-to-meetings," he answered carelessly, as if it
were a matter to be dismissed with the statement. "Let's see--say them
over again--white dress, pink parasol, rose hat, how did they go?"

"Once, not long ago, I was in your room with Mrs. Mayberry hunting for
the kittens the yellow cat had hidden in the house, and I caught a
glimpse of a most beautiful frock coat--it made me feel partyfied then,
and I thought of the rose gown I have never worn and--and--" she paused
to let that much sink in well. "I thought I would ask you," she ended
in a pensive tone, as she kept her eyes fixed on the rose determinedly.

"You don't have to ask me things--just tell me!" he answered with an
exquisite hint of something in his voice which he quickly controlled.
"The frock coat let it be--and shall we say the rose gown? Then the
high gods protect Providence when it beholds!" he added with a laugh.

"Oh, will you really?" she asked, overwhelmed with the e