Aunt Jane took her time. She polished her glasses and returned them to her nose and adjusted them carefully. Then she took up one of the boxes and read the florist's name printed on the top—"J. L. Parker & Co. He always sends nice flowers," she said heartily.
"Did he send them to us?"
"Well, they came from his greenhouse. He raised them—planted them and took care of them, and so on." Her fingers were busy with the tape, untying it. "But another man sent them—a man by the name of—Herman."
"Mr. Herman sent them!" They waited.
She lifted the cover and held out the box and a little cry went up from the ward, half repressed and full of awed delight.... It was a happy thing to see a great trayful of blossoms come rolling in; and it was a still more beautiful thing to have the cover lifted from the box, and all that color and fragrance leap out!
They watched with eager eyes.
Aunt Jane lifted a card from the top of the flowers and looked at it and tucked it away in the pocket of her big apron. The card had a narrow black edge.
"What did it say, Aunt Jane? What was on it?"
Aunt Jane looked at them over her glasses. "Just the name," she said. "The name of the one that sent them. People always send names with flowers, don't they?" She lifted a handful of the blossoms and shook them loose till they filled and overflowed the box. "They send names—so you'll know who it was sent them."
"Mr. Herman sent these, didn't he?"