r named her--not Florence, but Flossy. I suppose she was
one of those fluffy, curly, silky babies. She grew to be that kind of a
girl--a Flossy girl. It speaks for itself. I suppose with that name she
never had any incentive to outgrow her nature.

It came out on her wedding cards:

"Mr. and Mrs. CHARLES FAY CARLETON
request you to be present at the
marriage of their daughter
FLOSSY
to
Mr. BRONSON STURGIS HERRICK."

The contrast between the two names, hers so nonsensical and his so
dignified and strong, was no greater than that between the two people.
In truth, their names were symbolic of their natures. It looked really
pitiful to me.

I wondered if anybody besides Rachel English and me looked into their
future with apprehension. Our misgivings, I must admit, were all for
Bronson.

Ah, well-a-day! It is so easy to feel sympathy for a man you admire,
especially if he is strong and loyal, and does not ask or desire it of
you.

Flossy was one of those cuddling girls. She appealed to you with her eyes,
and you found yourself petting her and sympathizing with her, when, if you
stopped to think, you would see that she had more of everything than you
had. She possessed a rich father, a beautiful house, and perfect health.
Nevertheless, you found yourself asking after "poor Flossy," and your
voice commiserated her if your words did not. She invariably had some
trifling ill to tell you of. She had hurt her arm, or scratched her hand,
or the snow made her eyes ache, or she was tired. She never seemed at
liberty to enjoy herself, although she went everywhere, and seemed to do
so successfully in spite of her imaginary ills, if you let her enjoy
herself by telling you of them.

Everybody helped Flossy to live. Everybody protected and looked after her.
There was some one on his knees continually, removing invisible brambles
from her rose-leaf path. She didn't know how to do anything for herself.
She never buttoned her own boots. When her maid was not with her, other
people put her jacket on for her, and carried her umbrella and buttoned
her gloves. Men always buttoned her gloves, and her gloves always had more
buttons, and more unruly buttons, than any other gloves I ever saw. But
then I am elderly.

I never knew Flossy to do anything for anybody. She never gave things
away, but on Christmas and her birthdays she received remembrances from
everybody. I used to