arked on it--and they came from Hampton."

Bertie would have stayed to see the flowers opened, for he knew that
Mrs. Crocks would be much interested to know just what they were, and
what Pearl said, and what her mother said--and if there was a note
inside--and all the other good stuff he would be able to gather, but
Pearl took them, with an air of unconcern, and thanking Bertie, said
quite carelessly:

"Don't wait for an answer, Bertie, I can phone if there is any need,
and I know you are in a hurry--we must not keep you."

And before Bertie knew what had happened, he found himself walking
away from the door.

When the roses had been put in water, and each of the children had
been given a smell and a feel of the velvety petals, and Mrs. Watson
had partially recovered from the shock that the sight of flowers in
the winter, always gave her for they reminded her so of her father's
funeral, and the broken pillar which the Oddfellows sent; Pearl read
the card:

"To Pearl--eighteen-going-on-nineteen,
Hoping that the years will bring her nothing
but joy."

It was written on one of the doctor's professional cards, and that was
all. But looking again into the envelope there was a folded note which
she did not read to the assembled and greatly interested group. When
she was alone in the little beamed room upstairs, she read it:

"Dear Pearl:--I forgot to give you the roses when you were in this
afternoon. Accept them now with my deep affection. You have been a
bright spot in my life, and you will always be that--like a red rose
in a dull room. Your success will always be very dear to me, and my
prophecy is that you will go far. I will always think of you with
deepest admiration and pride. Ever yours,

"HORACE CLAY."

Pearl read it twice; then impulsively pressed it to her cheek.

"It sounds like good-bye," she said, with her lips trembling, "it
sounds like the last of something. Why won't he tell me? It is not
like him."

A wither of loneliness went over her face as she clasped the note
between her hands.

"I don't believe it is that," she said fiercely. "I won't believe it!"
Mrs. Crocks' words were taunting her; "the doctor thinks more of blue
blood than he does of money, and if he goes into politics it will mean
a lot to him to be related to the senator."

An overwhelming rage was in Pearl's heart, in spite of her
determination not to believe the suggestion; a blind, choking rage--it
was all so unfair