“Violets!” she exclaimed, as if she had spied the box for the first time. “Whom do you suppose they’re for?”
The senior, who was accustomed to being deluged with flowers by her freshman admirers, hastened up to the table. “Georgia Ames,” she read. “Why, how funny! That’s the girl who called on me the other day, and I haven’t been able to find out who she is or where she lives. But she certainly doesn’t live in this house. Isn’t it a perfect shame to have those violets wasted?”
“Yes,” agreed Bob, who intended to creep down and confiscate the box after ten. “But what can we do about it?”
The senior considered a moment, and then her face brightened. “Why, find out who sent them, of course,” she said, “and telephone her to send an A. D. T. boy after them.”
“Of course,” said Bob, who knew well that there was no card inside the box. The string was badly knotted, and Bob insisted upon untying it with the greatest care, so that it could be replaced later. With her fingers on the last knot she paused and looked up at the senior anxiously. “You don’t think it’s wrong,” she said, “to look at the card in another person’s box of flowers?”
“Of course not, under the circumstances,” said the senior acidly. “It’s only doing as you’d be done by.”
“That depends on the card, I should say,” murmured Bob under cover of the rustling paper. A moment later she looked up smilingly. “We’re not so bad after all,” she said. “There isn’t any card. Do you suppose Miss Ames is engaged or only awfully popular? Anonymous flowers mean one thing or the other, don’t they?”
“I suppose so, but we can telephone to the florist,” said the senior eagerly. “I really must find out her address, you know. She’s almost sure to be interesting, or she wouldn’t be getting such stunning violets.”
Bob had covered her trail well. The florist replied that the order had been brought in by a messenger boy, the name and address written on a card. Had he still the card? Yes, but the address was very illegible. It looked more like Westcott House than anything else. He was sorry, but there seemed to be no way of locating Miss Ames.