me the scissors and a
basket, and then you might put the vases ready in the little room."

Maggie flew to obey the commands, and Toni, to whom the idea of giving
orders was still almost ludicrous, strolled to the window to await her
return.

The room overlooked the river, and on that account was a favourite with
Toni. It was reached by a short flight of stairs apart from the main
staircase, and boasted a large casement window, built over the terrace
below, and giving the river an air of proximity which always delighted
Toni.

To-day the water sparkled in the sunshine with a very cheerful effect;
and as Toni looked a cream-white swan drifted by, the sun's light
turning its feathers into a kind of gilded snow. A punt passed slowly
with two occupants, one a girl in a white frock, lying lazily on a heap
of blue-green cushions, her uncovered head protected from the sun by a
scarlet parasol, the other a bronzed and fair-haired youth, who wielded
his pole with an athletic grace purely Greek.

Toni's eyes softened as the two glided by. Her own happiness was so
immense, her love for Owen had been so wonderfully, so completely
satisfied, that she wished all other girls to be as happy as she was;
and although the two in the punt were only visible for a few moments she
thought she could read in their faces the story of their mutual
attraction.

When Maggie returned Toni took the basket and went out into the garden.
Gathering flowers was an occupation of which she never tired. Never,
since her days on the hill-slope above Naples, had she been able to
indulge her passionate love for flowers; and to the girl who had been
wont to regard sixpence spent on a branch of golden mimosa, or a handful
of the big pink carnations which seem indigenous to the London streets,
as something of an extravagance, the delight of filling bowls and vases
with unlimited supplies of the loveliest, freshest flowers could not be
overrated.

To-day she cut more lavishly than usual in Fanny's honour, and when,
just as the lunch gong sounded, she rested from her labours, the lovely
old house was a dream of beauty and colour and scent.

Snapdragons, in every shade of yellow and pink and deep, rich rose,
stood in tall jars, wherever there was a dark corner to be lighted up.
Big blue bowls held masses of roses of every describable hue, whose
fragrance scented all the house; and every available inch of space had
been utilized as a resting-place for one or m