Herbert [brightly]. Oh, yes, to be sure; of course—the triliums. I was telling you they were to be found on the plains—of all places in the world—right in the heart of the great American desert—as I'm told.
Minnie [earnestly]. Are they, indeed? Really, I never heard of such a thing. Gray says positively, I am sure, that they are to be found growing only in damp soil; near rivers, for instance, or in marshes. I've never succeeded in finding them around here anywhere except down by the Huron River or out State Street at Tamarack Swamp. And to think of them growing away out there! It is the strangest thing I ever heard of—why, there's no water for miles, is there?
Herbert. Not a drop. I'm told they've been found in the most barren places; flowering alongside cacti and sage-brush.
Minnie. You are quite sure they were the trilium, are you? It's possible of course——
Herbert. That my informant might be mistaken—yes; but I don't think he was. They look precisely the same, and they analyze the same. I've seen his specimens. The leaf is identical in form. It is a trifle larger, that is all. I've never been able to distinguish any other variation, however slight.
Minnie. Have you ever mentioned it to Professor Yarb? I'm sure——
Herbert. Yes, I told him about them, and last summer I sent him a box. He analyzed them and is as much mystified as I. He's going to write a paper on the subject for this year's meeting of the American Society.
Minnie. How I should love to see some! I wonder if it would be too much trouble for you to send me a few; just one or two. You have some pressed, doubtless. I'd like to take a hand in solving the riddle. I intend to keep up with my botany, no matter where or what I teach, finally.
Herbert [joyfully]. Do you? Do you, really?
Minnie [earnestly]. I do indeed.