Let's fight
violets. It may have a charm to make me look young again--I feel so old
sometimes."
Intent on her game, she was already gathering the flowers in her lap,
while the young man a little puzzled and a little amused watched the face
which she described for his benefit as needing to look young. She ran on
gaily, "You will pick five and I will pick five. I never heard of any
other children fighting violets. It is a neglected branch of education. I
got it from the Westways children. Now, fair play, John Penhallow." He
was carelessly taking his five violets, while Leila was testing hers,
choosing them with care. The charm she sought was working--they were
children again.
"That's not fair, Leila."
"Why not?"
"You are testing yours. It is a mean advantage. I would scorn to do such
a thing. It is just like a woman--the way you do about dress. All women
ought to dress alike--then the competition would be fair."
Leila looked up from her lap full of violets. "I should like to see
_your_ Miss Ramsay in one of my gowns."
"_My_ Miss Ramsay! No such luck."
"You're a goose, Jack."
"You're a silly, Leila."
"Oh, now, we are children, John. This is the magic of the June violets."
"And you are just fourteen, Leila. The wrinkles of age are gone--they
used to be dimples.
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