“It is very natural—the little donkey, the barrow and all. And how very cheap the plants and flowers are—why that morning I bought for sixpence as many moss roses and buds as I could carry.”
“Gertrude, did you ever see that?” And Will gave me a printed slip that he had been searching for in his pocketbook. It was called the Floral Test.
“No, but isn’t it good? Let’s ask the others the questions and see who can answer the most.”
“Come, all you people,” called Will, and he stepped over to the next room. “Aren’t you tired of checkers? Gertrude has a new game.”
When all were seated around expectantly he said: “Now, Gertrude, you ask the questions and we’ll reply. It is called,” he explained, “the Floral Test. She’ll ask questions and we’ll give answers in the names of flowers.”
“Tell me the name of a maiden, and the color of her hair.”
“Maria-gold,” shouted Irving.
“Good for you, old fellow. How did you know?” questioned Bob.
“O here,” and young Bolton tapped his forehead significantly.
“What adjective fitted her and what was her brother’s name?”