"I couldn't! Positively couldn't! Mine are here!"
The slow colour crept into her cheek. "I'll make those roots bloom next
spring; you shall see them in perfection," she promised.
"That would be wonderful!" he exclaimed warmly.
"Tell me, were there yet others?" she asked hastily.
"Only these," he said. "But there was something else. I came near losing
them. While I debated, or rather while I possessed these, and worshipped
the others, there was a gutter row that almost made me lose yours."
"In the gutter again?" she laughed.
"Once again," he admitted. "Such a little chap, with an appealing voice,
while his inflection was the smallest part of what he was saying. 'Aw kid,
come on. Be square!' Oh Leslie!"
"Why Douglas!" the girl cried. "Tell me!"
"Of all the wooden-head slowness!" he exclaimed. "I've let him slip
again!"
"Let who 'slip again?'" questioned Leslie. "My little brother!" answered
he.
"Oh Douglas! You didn't really?" she protested.
"Yes I did," he said. "I heard a little lad saying the things that are in
the blood and bone of the men money can't buy and corruption can't break.
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