"
"Well, Ralph told me he had seen Burlock crying like a baby one day
because a little girl asked him for a penny. And Ralph thinks perhaps
there was some little girl in Miles' story,--a daughter maybe--and he
suggested that I try my influence with Miles."
"Did he cry like a baby over you?" teased Tavia, with poor appreciation
of her friend's efforts to help along the Liquor Crusade.
"Now please, Tavia, don't be absurd. There is something wonderfully
winning about Mr. Burlock."
"Of course there is. Wicked people are always winners."
"I won't tell you one thing more!"
"Now Doro! Doro! You know I love to hear you talk that way. And if it
were not so dark I could see your eyes show how deep they are, just like
the Jacks-in-the-Pulpit I gathered in the woods yesterday. You are
nothing like a wild flower, more like a beautiful pink and white
hyacinth, that grows in the Douglass garden; but sometimes, when you
pretend to be angry, you make me think of the wood flowers. They have
such a way of blooming best when some other growing thing tries to stop
them. Jacks-in-the-Pulpit grow right up through stones, and bloom in
tangles of poison ivy."
"I am sure I have no right to compare myself with flowers," answered the
other pleasantly, for she always admired her friend's poetic ideas,
although other people might laugh at them.
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