noon
With a strange fluttering of her heart , Lucy carried the bouquet to her own room , a corner of the house where Ellen seldom intruded . There she bent over it with a happy , triumphant little smile . Then , from behind the shelter of the muslin curtain , she blew a kiss from her finger tips to Mr. Martin Howe , who was hoeing potatoes on the hill , with his back set squarely toward the Webster mansion . When Ellen returned at noon , there was still a shell-like flush of pink on the girl 's cheek and on her lips a smile for which her aunt could not account . `` Where you been ? '' inquired the woman suspiciously . `` Nowhere .