"Can't say that I am, Mrs. Evelyn,--except as practised by others."
"Then you are not a connoisseur in roses?--Miss Ringgan's happy lot--sent her a most exquisite collection this morning, and she has been wanting to apply to somebody who could tell her what they are--I thought you might know.--O they are not here," said Mrs. Evelyn as she noticed the gentleman's look round the room;--"Miss Ringgan judges them too precious for any eyes but her own. Fleda, my dear, won't you bring down your roses to let Mr. Thorn tell us their names?"
"I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me, Mrs. Evelyn--I believe he would find it a puzzling task."
"The surest way, Mrs. Evelyn, would be to apply at the fountain head for information," said Thorn dryly.
"If I could get at it," said Mrs. Evelyn, (Fleda knew with quivering lips,)--"but it seems to me I might as well try to find the Dead Sea!"
"Perhaps Mr. Carleton might serve your purpose," said Thorn.
That gentleman was at the moment talking to Constance.
"Mr. Carleton--" said Mrs. Evelyn,--"are you a judge, sir?"
"Of what, Mrs. Evelyn?--I beg your pardon."
The lady's tone somewhat lowered.