Chapter 28 - Page 2

Mrs Gibson (who had never heard of the fate of the flowers until now), 'what an idea of yourself you will give to Mr Osborne Hamley; but to be sure, I can quite understand it. You inherit my feeling - my prejudice - sentimental I grant, against bought flowers.'

Cynthia was silent for a moment; then she said, 'I used some of your flowers, Mr Hamley, to dress Molly's hair. It was a great temptation, for the colour so exactly matched her coral ornaments; but I believe she thought it treacherous to disturb the arrangement, so I ought to take all the blame on myself.'

'The arrangement was my brother's, as I told you; but I am sure he would have preferred seeing them in Miss Gibson's hair rather than in the blazing fire. Mr Preston comes far the worst off.' Osborne was rather amused at the whole affair, and would have liked to probe Cynthia's motives a little farther. He did not hear Molly saying in as soft a voice as if she were talking to herself, 'I wore mine just as they were sent,' for Mrs Gibson came in with a total change of subject.

'Speaking of lilies of the valley, is it true that they grow wild in Hurst Wood? It is not the season for them to be in flower yet; but when it is, I think we must take a walk there - with our luncheon in a basket - a little picnic in fact. You'll join us, won't you?' turning to Osborne. 'I think it's a charming plan! You could ride to Hollingford and put up your horse here, and we would have a long day in the woods and all come home to dinner - dinner with a basket of lilies in the middle of the table!'

'I should like it very much,' said Osborne; 'but I may not be at home. Roger is more likely to be here, I believe, at that time - a month hence.' He was thinking of the visit to London to sell his poems, and the run down to Winchester which he anticipated afterwards - the end of May had been the period fixed for this pleasure for some time, not merely in his own mind, but in writing to his wife.

'Oh, but you must be with us! We must wait for Mr Osborne Hamley, must not we, Cynthia?'

'I'm afraid the lilies won't wait,' replied Cynthia.

'Well, then, we must put it off till dog-rose and honeysuckle time. You will be at home then, won't you? or does the London season present too many attractions?'

'I don't exactly know when dog-roses are in flower!'

'Not know, and you a poet? Don't you remember the lines -

It was the time of roses,

We plucked them as we passed?"

'Yes; but that doesn't specify the time of year that is the time of roses; and I believe my movements are guided more by the lunar calendar than the floral. You had better take my brother for your companion; he is practical in his love of flowers, I am only theoretical.'

'Does that fine word "theoretical" imply that you are ignorant?' asked Cynthia.

'Of course we shall be happy to see your brother; but why