"Yes," Mrs. Atwater replied. "She's right here, reading. You aren't worried about her, are you?" she added.
"Oh, no; I'm sure it's all right. I only thought——"
"Only thought what?"
"Well, it did strike me as curious," said Mr. Atwater; "especially after Aunt Fanny's telling us how Herbert declared Florence could never have a single thing to do with his paper again——"
"Well, what?"
"Well, here's her poem right at the top of it, and a very friendly item about her history mark of last June. It doesn't seem like Herbert to be so complimentary to Florence, all of a sudden. Just struck me as rather curious; that's all."
"Why, yes," said Mrs. Atwater, "it does seem a little odd, when you think of it."
"Have you asked Florence if she had anything to do with getting out this week's Oriole?"
"Why, no; it never occurred to me, especially after what Aunt Fanny told us," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'll ask her now."
But she was obliged to postpone putting the intended question. "Sesame and Lilies" lay sweetly upon the seat of the chair that Florence had occupied; but Florence herself had gone somewhere else.