The Young Man, blushing and smiling: "Oh, it's a very charming welcome home. I shall be sure to come. She is—everybody is—well, I hope?"
The Lady: "Yes, or everybody was on Monday when I saw them. Everybody is looking very beautiful this winter, lovelier than ever, if possible. But so spiritual! Too spiritual! But that spirit of hers will carry her—I mean everybody, of course!—through everything. I feel almost wicked to have asked her to pour tea for me, when I think of how much else she is doing! Do you know, I was just ordering the flowers for my Saturday, and I had decided to take her for my key-note in the decorations. But that made it so difficult! There doesn't seem anything delicate and pure and sweet enough for her. There ought to be some flower created just to express her! But as yet there isn't."
The Young Man: "No, no; there isn't. But now I must run away. I haven't been to my hotel yet; I was just driving up from the ship, and I saw the flowers in the window, and—stopped. Good-by!"
The Lady: "Good-by! What devotion to somebody—everybody! Don't forget my Saturday!"
The Young Man: "No, no; I won't. Good-by!" He hurries out of the door, and his carriage is heard driving away.
The Florist: "I wondter if he but the attress on the cart? No; there is noding!" He turns the card helplessly over. "What am I coing to do about these flowers?"
The Lady: "Why, didn't he say where to send them?"
The Florist: "No, he rhon away and dtidn't leaf the attress."
The Lady: "That was my fault! I confused him, poor fellow, by talking to him. What are you going to do?"
The Florist: "That is what I lige to know! Do you know what hotel he stobs at?"