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Briggs at once assumed his most elegant and
conquering air, straightened himself to his full height and kissed his
hand to her with much condescension. She laughed as she came up to him,
and the dimples in her round cheeks appeared in full force.
"Well, Mr. Briggs," she said, "are you enjoying yourself?"
Briggs smiled down upon her benevolently. "I am!" he responded
graciously. "I find the hair refreshing. And you, Miss Britta?"
"Oh, I'm very comfortable, thank you!" responded Britta demurely, edging
a little away from his arm, which showed an unmistakable tendency to
encircle her waist,--then glancing at a basket she held full of grapes,
just cut from the hot house, she continued, "These are for the
supper-table. I must be quick, and take them to Mrs. Parton."
"Must you?" and Briggs asked this question with quite an unnecessary
amount of tenderness, then resuming his dignity, he observed, "Mrs.
Parton is a very worthy woman--an excellent 'ousekeeper. But she'll no
doubt excuse you for lingering a little, Miss Britta--especially in _my_
company.


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