In explanation of this sudden haste another face appeared, seen over Roberta’s shoulder.  This face was also of a somewhat warm colouring, but these eyes did not hide; they looked as if they were seeing visions and noted nothing earthly.

“Why, Dick!” exclaimed Mr. Kendrick.  “I didn’t expect you till to-morrow.”  Gladness was in his voice.  He held out welcoming hands, and his grandson came to him and took the hands and held them while he explained the errand which had brought him and upon which he must immediately depart.  But he would come again upon the morrow, he promised.  It was clear that the closest relations existed between the two; it was a pleasant thing to see.  And when Richard turned out again toward the visitors he had his face in order.

Some imperceptible signalling had been exchanged between Roberta and Rosamond, and the call came shortly to an end, in spite of the old man’s urgent invitation to them to remain.

“Do you see the roses they brought me, Dick?” He indicated the bowls and vases which stood about the room.  “I told them you would notice them directly you came in.  Where are your eyes, boy?”

“Do you really blame me for not seeing them, grandfather?” retorted his grandson audaciously.  “But I recognize them now; they are wonderful.  I suppose they have thorns?” His eyes met Roberta’s for one daring instant.

“You wouldn’t like them if they didn’t,” said she.

“Shouldn’t I?  I’d like to find one with the thorns off; I’d wear it—­if I might.  May I have one, grandfather?”

“Of course, Dick.  They’re mine now to give away, Miss Roberta?  Perhaps you’ll put it on for him.”

Since the suggestion was made by an old man, who might or might not have been wholly innocent of taking sides in a game in which his boy was playing for high stakes, Roberta could do no less than hurriedly to select a splendid crimson bud without regard to thorns—­she was aware of more than one as she handled it—­and fasten it upon a gray coat, intensely conscious of the momentary nearness of a personality whose influence upon her was the strangest, most perturbing thing she had ever experienced.

The flower in place, she could not get away too fast.  Rosamond, understanding now that the air was electric and that her sister wanted nothing so much as to escape to a safer atmosphere, aided her by taking the lead and engaging Richard Kendrick in conversation all the way downstairs to the door and out to the waiting carriage.  As they drove away Rosamond looked back at the figure leaping up the steps, with the crimson rose showing brilliantly in the June sunshine.

“Rob, he’s splendid, simply splendid,” she whispered, so that the old family coachman in front, driving the old family horses, could not hear.  “I don’t wonder his grandfather is so proud of him.  One can see that he’s going to go right on now and make himself a man worth anybody’s while.  He’s that now, but he’s going to be more.”