Fond as all were of Uncle Charles, no one could feel that the moment was fortunately chosen, and I am sorry to say that Charles voiced to some extent the general feeling when he said almost audibly, ‘Oh, bother!’
The Uncle came towards them smiling kindly.
‘I have come,’ he said, ‘to make a presentation to you.’ He gave to each a white flower. ‘I have again consulted that entrancing volume of yours, The Language of Flowers, and it tells me that this is the appropriate flower to convey the sentiments with which I approach you.’
Every one said, ‘Thank you very much.’ And Caroline added, ‘But what does it mean, Uncle?’
‘What? Has your book taught you so little?’ he asked.
‘You see,’ Caroline kindly explained, ‘I don’t even know what the name of the flower is, but it’s most awfully kind of you, uncle, all the same.’
‘Oh, the name of the flower?’ said the Uncle. ‘It’s stephanotis.’
‘But that means, “Will you accompany me to the East?”’ said Caroline.
‘Well,’ said the Uncle, ‘and will you?’
‘To the East?’