Samwise Gamgee had thought, for a long time, about what Merry had told him in the Green Dragon. It was a comforting thought, to be sure----to know that Frodo wasn't being sour simply for the sake of being sour, and that his little smiles possibly meant something more than that, and that he was only moody because----well, quite frankly, Sam didn't know why his master was moody, but he hoped it would have some solidly good outcome.
Still, it wasn't his purpose to say anything, and doing so would have been overstepping his bounds by a longshot. There were certain things that one could and could not say to one's master when one wasn't much other than a servant, and a proposition of affection between lads was one of those things that fell into the category of Could Not.
Therefore it was that Sam, however anxious he might have been, went about his business as usual in the couple of days following Merry's talk in the Green Dragon. He arrived early each morning, tended to the gardens, managed a bit of housework while Frodo was busy with gentler pursuits like reading and writing letters. The only change was that when he spent a bit too long looking at his master, he didn't feel as guilty. Not quite.