In the street she stopped before a little shop where papers and magazines were sold.
"I believe Father'd like the new Centurion," she said to herself, and got it for him, chatting a little with the one-armed man who kept the place. She stopped again at a small florist's and bought a little bag of bulbs.
"Your mother's forgotten about those, I guess," said Mrs. Crothers, the florist's wife, "but they'll do just as well now. Lucky you thought of them before it got too late in the season. Bennie was awfully pleased with that red and blue pencil you gave him, Miss Lane."
Vivian walked on. A child ran out suddenly from a gate and seized upon her.
"Aren't you coming in to see me—ever?" she demanded.
Vivian stooped and kissed her.
"Yes, dear, but not to-night. How's that dear baby getting on?"
"She's better," said the little girl. "Mother said thank you—lots of times. Wait a minute—"
The child fumbled in Vivian's coat pocket with a mischievous upward glance, fished out a handful of peanuts, and ran up the path laughing while the tall girl smiled down upon her lovingly.