“Will it be objectionable if several of us choose the same flower?” asked Lulu.
“Oh no, not at all,” replied Harold. “I shall take some of these beautiful pinks. This one means pure affection; this clove pink, dignity; this double red, pure, ardent love; this white one, ‘You are fair.’ I should like to say all that to mamma.”
“So should I,” said Grace. “May I take some of the same flowers, Uncle Harold?”
“Surely, dear child,” he returned, selecting them for her.
“A bit of myrtle, too, please,” she said; “because I do love Grandma Elsie dearly.”
“I want a bit of that, too,” Lulu said, “and all the kinds of lilies and roses that mean something nice. I do think they are the loveliest flowers!”
“I’ll have heliotrope, ‘I love you,’ pansy, ‘Think of me,’ purple heartsease, some of the myrtle, and honeysuckle, ‘bond of love,’” Evelyn said, after consulting the book Herbert had brought, and culling them from the fragrant heaps as she spoke.
In the mean time Rosie had made up the two bouquets she had come for. “See!” she said, holding them up to view, “aren’t these roses and lilies just the perfection of beauty? They’ll put the finishing touch to mamma’s attire, and I’ll be back presently to select others as my offering to the queen of the day.”
So saying she tripped gayly away.
“There, the crown is done!” said Zoe, turning it about in her hands and viewing it with a satisfied smile.