They reminded me of you when I saw them.”

Constance did not know what to make of such homage as this. If he had said, “They’re not so bad, are they, old girl?” as some of her college acquaintances might have spoken freshly, she would have thought nothing of it, but this old-time courtesy and homage she did not understand. She wondered how he came to be that way and what she ought to do about it. She felt almost uncomfortable under such open yet reverent admiration.

“But you didn’t mean these for me,” she said, as if he were offering her priceless jewels that of course she could not be permitted to accept.

“If you’ll take them,” he said humbly. “I wouldn’t have any way of looking out for them myself now. I’m on my way to the office to get acquainted with my new job before things start off tomorrow. I’d hate to see the brave little things droop.”

Constance was filled with sudden pity for the flowers as if they had been lovely little children uncared for. His tone had invested them with personality.

“Oh, I’d love to have them,” she said quite simply now. He had been so humble she must put him at his ease. He had not meant to be presumptuous. He was just counting on that mystic bond of religion, that church stuff, probably. Strange a young man in these days could be so childlike. But he was probably brought up in the country. He would get over it.

“I don’t believe I ever saw them before,” she went on to cover her own embarrassment.

“I wish you could see them growing,” he said, watching her with unveiled admiration. “They’re like a little sea of blue, blowing and nodding in the grass, with these maidenhair ferns in a little huddle behind them like a miniature forest on the bank.”

“I’d like to see them,” she said frankly. “They must be a wonderful sight.”

“You couldn’t spare the time to go?” he asked wistfully. “I’d enjoy showing you just where they are.”

Constance glanced at her watch and shook her head.

“I have an appointment at the country club at nine.”

“Oh, not now,” he smiled. “I couldn’t go today at all. I thought perhaps tomorrow morning—early. Could you?”

“It would certainly have to be early,” laughed Constance and wondered why she dallied with this handsome, ingenuous boy. She had lost all sense of his being presumptuous now.

“I’m quite respectable, you know,” he said wistfully and flashed her a smile. “I could get Mr. Howarth to introduce us rightly. I’m with Howarth, Well and Company, you see—”

Constance flashed him a smile herself now. The Howarths were all right people. He must be respectable, she felt sure. Yet he was unusual, different from her other men friends. She wondered why she was interested.

“Could you go as early as half past five, or would six perhaps be better?” He fixed his brown eyes on her face now and gave her another of those radiant smiles, and suddenly she knew she was going to see those flowers tomorrow morning.

“I’m not sure,” she said thoughtfully. “If you are going anyway and happen to be passing by here about that time I might come along. I can’t really promise.