"What luxuriant tulips, Miss Maud!" said the Major. This time he found her alone, gathering them from a bed by the lilacs in her garden.
"Yes," she said, laughingly. "They stand shoulder to shoulder like soldiers on a battlefield. You see how ruthlessly I am slaying them."
"Scarcely that," was his comment; "you are simply carrying off the wounded."
"Ah!" she said, shaking her head; "but how many of the wounded will live?"
"All of them; judging by your habit, they will simply die a natural death."
"How do you make that out?" she asked, looking up quickly.
"Simply, that by putting them in water in the shade, as is your custom, the flowers will live as long as when left on their stems in the garden."
"Have you found the philosopher's stone yet?" she questioned with an arch look.
"No," he replied, "only the observer's; but have you heard the latest news? It only came an hour ago."
"No, what is it, please?"