"Impudent!" replied Aunt Jane.
"An' say, lady, I got a note also for Miss—Miss Farnum."
"Give it to me, then, you young rascal."
"Nixey." The boy shook his head and winked again. "Told me to give it to Miss Farnum 'erself."
"But I can give it to her."
"Maybe my eye's green, too," answered the messenger. "De gent who give me dis said give it only to her. If she ain't in, I got to come back when she is."
"Miss Farnum is not in," declared Aunt Jane, indignantly. "And you're a rude, disrespectful boy, to speak so to your elders."
"Well, say, when will her nibs get back?"
"In about half an hour," retorted Aunt Jane, slamming the door on him and taking the box into the parlor. Once there, she peered curiously at the box. It was only an ordinary florist's box, but a big one, and it evidently contained costly, long-stemmed American Beauties. There was a small note attached to the box, with the name "Martha Farnum" on the envelope.
Mrs. Anderson debated about five seconds whether or not it was her duty to examine the note. Of course she had no right to look, but she concluded that her position as Martha's temporary guardian demanded that she examine carefully anything that would throw light upon the person who was sending so many flowers to her young charge.