"You did? And ain't it funny?" Miss Crilly ran on,—"she don't know who sent 'em!"
"Perhaps Miss Sniffen could tell you."
Miss Sterling looked up quickly.
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Crilly.
Miss Castlevaine moved her chair nearer, listened intently, and then began in a low voice: "I was coming up with a pitcher of hot water, and you know there's a little place where you can see down on the desk. Well, Miss S. was there fussing over a box, and I said to myself, 'I guess somebody's got some flowers.' Then I saw her lift the cover and slip out something white. I didn't see it distinctly, for just as she took hold of it she looked up, and I dodged out of sight. When I peeked down again she was dropping something into a little drawer, and I came on as still as I could. I thought then that whoever had those flowers wouldn't find out who sent 'em!"
"It isn't right!" Mrs. Albright's comfortable face took on stern, troubled lines.
"I'd go to the florist and find out," declared Miss Crilly.
"There's no name on the box." Miss Sterling drew a deep breath, and indignation flushed her pale cheeks.
"I did suppose we could have what belonged to us, even here!
Things grow worse every day. Boiled tripe for dinner—ugh!" Miss
Castlevaine's face wrinkled with repugnance.
"And only potatoes to go with it," sighed Mrs. Albright. "It's too bad we can't have green vegetables and fruit—now, in the season."