eliotrope,
Helen's favorite flower. All eyes coveted the roses as they passed, and
watched to see their destination. They were presented to Mrs.
Lorrington.

Every one supposed that Dexter was the giver. The rich gift was like
him, and perhaps also the time of its presentation. But the time was a
mistake of the servant's; and was not Mrs. Lorrington bowing her
thanks?--yes, she was bowing her thanks, with a little air of
consciousness, yet with openness also, to Mr. Heathcote, who sat by
himself at the end of the long room. He bowed gravely in return, thus
acknowledging himself the sender.

"Well," said Miss Vanhorn, crossly, yet with a little shade of relief
too in her voice, "of all systematic coquettes, Helen Lorrington is our
worst. I suppose that we shall have no peace, now that she has come.
However, it will not last long."

"You will go away soon, then, grandaunt?" said Anne, eagerly.

Miss Vanhorn put up her eyeglass; the tone had betrayed something. "No,"
she said, inspecting her niece coolly; "nothing of the sort. I shall
remain through September, perhaps later."

Anne's heart sank. She would be obliged, then, to go through the ordeal.
She could eat nothing; a choking sensation had risen in her throat when
Heathcote bowed to Helen, acknowledging the flowers. "May I go,
grandaunt?" she said. "I do not feel well this morning."

"No; finish your breakfast like a Christian. I hate sensations. However,
on second thoughts, you _may_ go," added the old woman, glancing at
Dexter and Helen. "You may as well be re-arranging those specimens that
Bessmer stupidly knocked down. But do not let me find the Lorrington in
my parlor when I come up; do you hear?"

"Yes," said Anne, escaping. She ran up stairs to her own room, locked
the door, and then stood pressing her hands upon her heart, crying out
in a whisper: "Oh, what shall I do! What shall I do! How can I bear it!"
But she could not have even that moment unmolested: the day had begun,
and its burdens she must bear. Bessmer knocked, and began at once
tremulously about the injured plants through the closed door.

"Yes," said Anne, opening it, "I know about them. I came up to
re-arrange them."

"It wouldenter been so bad, miss, if it hadenter been asters. But I
never could make out asters; they all seem of a piece to me," said
Bessmer, while Anne sorted the specimens, and replaced them within the
drying-sheets. "Every fall there's the same time with 'em. I just