"I dare say you are right, daughter. Most of our sudden surprises of temptation, when we come to examine them, will be found not half so much surprises as we suppose. But we will not talk any more to-night. Does your shoulder pain you?"
"No, mother, not much. Mamma, I think I know what I shall do, if you will let me. I think I shall carry my fuchsia to Mrs. Hausen. She has none like it, I know; and she said it was a very uncommon one. Don't you think it is worth as much as the red plant?"
"Quite as much, if not more. I think you have come to the right conclusion, Florry; and I am glad to see that your repentance is earnest and sincere. Goodnight, my daughter."
The next morning, directly after breakfast, Florry took her fuchsia and went up to Mr. Hausen's. The walk had never seemed so long or the pot so heavy, and more than once she had to sit down and rest; but she persevered: at the door she met Mr. Crampton.
"Good-morning, Miss Florry," said he. "What a fine plant you have there! I think, if it is yours, I must beg for a cutting some day."
"I am bringing it to Mrs. Hausen," answered Florry.
"She will be glad to have it, I am sure. We had some beautiful plants sent from the city only yesterday morning, and last night some rascal stole one of the best of them."
"Crampton," called Mr. Hausen, from the side door, "come here, I want you."
Florry was thankful to be saved the trouble of a reply. She walked on to the door, and asking for Mrs. Hausen, she was shown into the library, where that lady was sitting. It was a lovely room, with great bay windows and book-cases filled and running over with books; not all of the same size and binding, and looking as if they had been bought to ornament the shelves, but of all sorts and sizes and ages; for both Mr. and Mrs. Hausen were great readers. Mrs. Hausen was sitting at her own pretty desk; but she laid down her pen, as Florry entered, and gave her a hearty welcome.
"Please, Mrs. Hausen, I have brought you my fuchsia, to make amends," said Florry, plunging at once into her subject and, in her eagerness, beginning at the wrong end. "I couldn't bring back the red plant, because somebody stole it from me; but I am very sorry; and I brought you my fuchsia, because it was the only plant I had; and, oh, please do forgive me!" And here Florry confused matters still more by bursting into tears, and crying as if her heart would break.