name my mother
gave me. I think she must have had a great love of flowers. She
named me for the best she had. I hope I shall never forget that,"
and Pansy looked at Mrs. Meredith with a face of such gravity and
pride that silence lasted in the parlors for a while.

Buried in Pansy's heart was one secret, one sorrow: that her mother
had been poor. Her father wore his yoke ungalled; he loved rough
work, drew his religion from privations, accepted hardship as the
chastening that insures reward. But that her mother's hands should
have been folded and have returned to universal clay without ever
having fondled the finer things of life--this to Pansy was
remembrance to start tears on the brightest day.

"I think she named you beautifully," said Mrs. Meredith, breaking
that silence, "and I am glad you told me, Pansy." She lingered with
quick approval on the name.

But she turned the conversation at once to less personal channels.
The beauty of the country at this season seemed to offer her an
inoffensive escape. She felt that she could handle it at least
with tolerable discretion. She realized that she was not deep on
the subject, but she did feel fluent.

"I suppose you take the same pride that we all do in such a
beautiful country."

Sunlight instantly shone out on Pansy's face. Dent was a
geologist; and since she conceived herself to be on trial before
Mrs. Meredith this morning, it was of the first importance that she
demonstrate her sympathy and intelligent appreciation of his field
of work.

"Indeed I do feel the greatest pride in it, Mrs. Meredith," she
replied. "I study it a great deal. But of course you know
perfectly the whole formation of this region."

Mrs. Meredith coughed with frank discouragement.

"I do not know it," she admitted dryly. "I suppose I ought to know
it, but I do not. I believe school-teachers understand these
things. I am afraid I am a very ignorant woman. No one of my
acquaintances is very learned. We are not used to scholarship."

"I know all the strata," said Pansy. "I tell the children stories
of how the Mastodon once virtually lived in our stable, and that
millions of years ago there were Pterodactyls under their bed."

"I think it a misfortune for a young woman to have much to say to
children about Pterodactyls under their bed--is that the name?
Such things never seem to have troubled Solomon, and I believe he
was reputed wise." She did not care for the old-f