It was a delicate attention, and Harold felt it more than all she had done for him.
'Thank you, Jerrie,' he said, picking up the rose as he finished his breakfast.

'It was so nice in you to think of it, just as if I were a king instead of a jack-at-all-trades, but I hardly think it suits my blue checked shirt and painty pants.

Keep it yourself, Jerrie,' and he held it up against her white bib apron.

'It is just like the pink on your cheeks.

Wear it for me,' and taking a pin from his collar, he fastened it rather awkwardly to the bib, while his face came in so close proximity to Jerrie's that he felt her breath stir his hair, and felt, too, a strong temptation to kiss the glowing cheek so near his own.
'There, that completes your costume,' he said, holding her off a little to look at her.