The Great Elm
There was a neatly-dressed young woman, with a little flower-pot in her hand, standing near him, waiting for her turn. There was a small orange-tree in her flower-pot. It was about six inches high. The sight of this orange-tree interested Marco very much, for it reminded him of home. He had often seen orange-trees growing in the parlors and green-houses in New York.
"What a pretty little orange-tree!" said Marco. "Where did you get it?"
"How did you know it was an orange-tree?" said the girl.
"O, I know an orange-tree well enough," replied Marco. "I have seen them many a time."
"Where?" asked, the girl.
"In New York," said Marco. "Did your orange-tree come from New York?"
"No," said the girl. "I planted an orange-seed, and it grew from that. I've got a lemon-tree, too," she added, "but it is a great deal larger. The lemon-tree grows faster than the orange. My lemon-tree is so large that I couldn't bring it home very well, so I left it in the mill."
"In the mill?" said Marco. "Are you a miller?"