Jem looked on wonderingly as her sister and the visitor, whom she considered her especial property, chatted.
She could not understand how they knew each other. At length, as they took no notice of her, she determined to assert herself; so, going up to Flora, she demanded:
"What do you think of my yard?"
"Oh," said Flora, recollecting for what purpose they had come, "I like it very much indeed, Jem."
"It's a pretty good yard, I think," said Jem, with much emphasis on the pronoun. "Come and look at the flowers, and I'll tell you the names of them." And she drew Flora nearer the bench.
"This is a gibonia," she continued, pointing with her fat finger to the flower named.
"You mean a 'begonia,' don't you, Jem?" said Flora.
"Yes," answered Jem, without changing countenance in the least, or seeming in any way abashed; "and this is a gerangum."
"A geranium," corrected Flora. "Yes, I see."
"And this is a chipoonia," pointing to a petunia, "and—Oh, there's Pokey!" and breaking away in the midst of her explanations, she gave chase to a fat little gray kitten that just then scampered across the yard, and into the house.