“That won’t matter. Just tell her who you are and that you belong to us. Mrs. 151 Gordon loves flowers, though she hasn’t much time to tend them.”
“I shouldn’t think any one could have less time than you.”
Aunt Jessica laughed. “Oh, I make time!”
Elliott picked up the flat green basket, lifted the shears she found lying in it, and went hesitatingly up and down the borders. “What shall I pick?”
“Anything. Suit yourself. Make the basket as pretty as you can. If you pick here and there, the borders won’t show where you cut from them.”
Mother Jess gathered up gloves and tools, and went away, tugging her basket of weeds. Elliott, left behind, surveyed the borders critically. To cut without letting it appear that she had cut was evidently what Aunt Jessica wanted. She reached in and snipped off a spire of larkspur from the very back of the border, then stood back to see what had happened. 152 No, if one hadn’t known the stalk had been there, one wouldn’t now know it was gone. The thing could be done, then. Cautiously she selected a head of white phlox. The result of that operation also was satisfactory.
Up and down the flowery path she went, snipping busily. On the stalks of larkspur and phlox she laid a mass of pink snapdragons and white candytuft, tucking in here and there sprays of just-opening baby’s-breath to give a misty look to the basket. A bunch of English daisies came next; they blossomed so fast one didn’t have to pick and choose among them; one could just cut and cut. And oughtn’t there to be pansies? “Pansies—that’s for thoughts.” Those wonderful purple ones with a sprinkling of the yellow—no, yellow would spoil the color scheme of the basket. These white beauties were just the thing. How lovely it all looked, blue and white and pink and purple!
But there wasn’t much fragrance. Eye and nose searched hopefully. Heliotrope!—just a spray or two. There, now it was perfect. Anybody would be glad to see a basket like that coming. Only, she did wish some one else were to carry it, or else that she knew the people. It might not be so bad if she knew the people. Why shouldn’t Laura or Trudy take it? Elliott walked very slowly up to the house, debating the question. A week ago she wouldn’t have debated; she would have said, “Oh, I can’t possibly.” Or so she thought.
“How beautiful!” said Aunt Jessica’s voice from the kitchen window. “You have made an exquisite thing, dear.”