“They’ll be at their best next Saturday.”
“Next Saturday--dear, Helen’s going home over the week-end. Oh, could I come out and get one for her?”
“Yes. I’ll be glad to take you where they grow. I have a special haunt. If no botanizers or flower hunters find my spot, we’ll get a beauty for your friend.”
“You’re the same old darling, Amanda,” said the girl sweetly. “Then I’ll be out to your house Saturday afternoon. How do I get there?”
“Take the car to Oyster Point, then walk till you find a mail-box with our name on it, and there I’ll be found.”
“Thank you, Amanda, you are a dear! I’ll be there for the pink moccasin. Won’t it be romantic to hunt for such lovely things as they are? You’re perfectly sweet to bother about it and offer to take me.”
“Oh, I don’t mind doing that. I’ll enjoy it. Finding the wild pink lady-slipper is a real joy.”
Unselfish Amanda, she could not dream of what would come out of that little hunt for the pink moccasin!