"With what?" I repeated.
There was the rub! With what? I sat with my head clasped between my hands trying to answer him.
"With what?" I repeated, after a long silence.
"S'posin' I got her a wreath." Perry offered the suggestion, and in his enthusiasm he forgot that in our premise I was the person concerned; but I was not loath to let him take on himself the burden of our perplexity.
"Is she dead?" I asked.
"I needn't get one of that kind," he solemnly replied. "Somethin' in autumn leaves ought to be nice."
"You might do better."
"A hand-paintin', then," he ventured timidly.
I smiled on this with more approval.
"They have some be-yutiful ones at Hopedale," he said with more heart. "The last time I was down I was lookin' at 'em. They've fine gold frames and——"