"Here you are, ma'am!" he said, as he received the flower wrapped in tissue-paper and handed over his coins.
"I say! I say! Mr. Rich! You've given me too much!"
"But you said sixpence!"
"Oh, that was weeks ago! They're cheaper now; they're only threepence!"
He was sickened to think he had allowed the extra weeks to pass by thus unchrysanthemumed. "Give me another!" he demanded haughtily to convince Madame Smythe of his superiority to all consideration of money.
The kitchen was crowded when Philip entered with his flowers and he slipped in unnoticed to join his mother in the scullery.
"Mamma," he said shyly, "I've brought you a present all for yourself!"
"Oh, Feivele, sweet child, how lovely! But the money, where didst thou get the money from?"
"I've been saving up, Mamma. But never mind about that! You've got to take these flowers and wear them on your blouse!"
"But I can't, Feivele! It's not right a married woman should wear flowers. Knowest thou not a Jewish woman must not wear her own hair? How then shall I wear flowers? And what will thy tatte say? I can't, my child!"