g; or, if I did,
I meant to water it as soon as I had finished my letter. He has never
been able to bring this home to me, he says, because he burned my
correspondence. As if a business man would destroy such a letter.
It was yet more annoying when Gilray took to post-cards. To hear the
postman's knock and then discover, when you are expecting an important
communication, that it is only a post-card about a flower-pot--that is
really too bad. And then I consider that some of the post-cards bordered
upon insult. One of them said, "What about chrysanthemum?--reply at
once." This was just like Gilray's overbearing way; but I answered
politely, and so far as I knew, truthfully, "Chrysanthemum all right."

Knowing that there was no explaining things to Gilray, I redoubled my
exertions to water his flower-pot as the day for his return drew near.
Once, indeed, when I rang for water, I could not for the life of me
remember what I wanted it for when it was brought. Had I had any
forethought I should have left the tumbler stand just as it was to
show it to Gilray on his return. But, unfortunately, William John had
misunderstood what I wanted the water for, and put a decanter down
beside it. Another time I was actually on the stair rushing to Gilray's
door, when I met the housekeeper, and, stopping to talk to her, lost
my opportunity again. To show how honestly anxious I was to fulfil
my promise, I need only add that I was several times awakened in the
watches of the night by a haunting consciousness that I had forgotten
to water Gilray's flower-pot. On these occasions I spared no trouble
to remember again in the morning. I reached out of bed to a chair and
turned it upside down, so that the sight of it when I rose might remind
me that I had something to do. With the same object I crossed the tongs
and poker on the floor. Gilray maintains that instead of playing "fool's
tricks" like these ("fool's tricks!") I should have got up and gone
at once to his rooms with my water-bottle. What? and disturbed my
neighbors? Besides, could I reasonably be expected to risk catching my
death of cold for the sake of a wretched chrysanthemum? One reads of men
doing such things for young ladies who seek lilies in dangerous ponds or
edelweiss on overhanging cliffs. But Gilray was not my sweetheart, nor,
I feel certain, any other person's.

I come now to the day prior to Gilray's return. I had just reached the
office when I remembered about the chrys