Andrew pulled out his old pocket-book, and counted the bills.  Miss Higgins saw that he took every bill in it, unless there were some in another compartment, and of that she could not be quite sure.  But Andrew knew.  He would not have another penny until the next week when he received his pay.  In the meantime there was a bill due at the grocery store, and one at the market, and there was the debt for Ellen’s watch.  However, he felt as if he would rather owe every man in Rowe than this one small, sharp woman.  He felt the scorn lurking within her like a sting.  She seemed to him like some venomous insect.  He went out to the doorstep again, and wondered if she would want her pay the next night when she went home.

Chapter XXIV

Ellen had a flower-garden behind the house, and a row of sweet-peas which was her pride.  It had occurred to her that she might venture, although Cynthia Lennox had her great garden and conservatories, to carry her a bunch of these sweet-peas.  She had asked her mother what she thought about it.  “Why, of course, carry her some if you want to,” said Fanny.  “I don’t see why you shouldn’t.  I dare say she’s got sweet-peas, but yours are uncommon handsome, and, anyway, it ought to please her to have some given her.  It ain’t altogether what’s given, it’s the giving.”

So Ellen had cut a great bouquet of the delicate flowers, selecting the shades carefully, and set forth.  She was as guiltily conscious as a lover that she was making an excuse to see Miss Lennox.  She hurried along in delight and trepidation, her great bouquet shedding a penetrating fragrance around her, her face gleaming white out of the dusk.  She had to pass Granville Joy’s house on her way, and saw with some dismay, as she drew near, a figure leaning over the gate.

He pushed open the gate when she drew near, and stood waiting.

“Good-evening, Ellen,” he said.  He was mindful not to say “Hullo” again.  He bowed with a piteous imitation of Robert Lloyd, but Ellen did not notice it.

“Good-evening,” she returned, rather stiffly, then she added, in a very gentle voice, to make amends, that it was a beautiful night.

The young man cast an appreciative glance at the crescent moon in the jewel-like blue overhead, and at the soft shadows of the trees.

“Yes, beautiful,” he replied, with a sort of gratitude, as if the girl had praised him instead of the night.

“May I walk along with you?” he asked, falling into step with her.

“I am going to take these sweet-peas to Miss Lennox,” said Ellen, without replying directly.