p, at the
moment when Marjorie rejoiced in the modest little Speedwell. Once more,
the Captain distinguished himself by finding in the grass the yellow
Wood-Sorrel, with its Shamrock leaves, which, when Marjorie saw, she
seemed to recognize in part. Then, crossing the stepping stones of the
brook, she ran, far up the hill on the other side, to a patch of shady
bush, from which she soon returned victorious, with a bunch of the
larger Wood-Sorrel in her hand, to exhibit the identity of its leaves,
and its delicate white blossoms with their pinky-purple veins. By the
time the other juveniles brought in the blue Vervain, pink Fireweed and
tall yellow Mullein, the botanist thought it about time to go home and
press his specimens.

Miss Carmichael met the scientists at the door, looking, of course, for
the children and Uncle Thomas, who was never called by his Christian
name, Ezekiel. Learning the nature of the work in hand, she volunteered
the use of the breakfast-room table. The lawyer brought down his strap
press, and, carefully placing oiled paper between the dried specimens
and the semi-porous sheets that were to receive the new ones, proceeded
to lay them out. The new specimens had all to be examined by the
addition to the botanical party, their botanical and vulgar names to be
recited to her, and, then, the arranging began. This was too monotonous
work for the Captain, who carried the children off for a romp on the
verandah. Marjorie stayed for a minute or so after they were gone, and
then remembered that she had not given papa his morning button-hole.
Coristine was clumsy with the flowers, owing to the gloves he said, so
Miss Carmichael had to spread them out on the paper under his direction,
and hold them in their place, while he carefully and gradually pressed
another sheet over them. Of course his fingers could not help coming
into contact with hers. "Confound those gloves!" he thought aloud.

"Mr. Coristine, if you are going to use such language, and to speak so
ungratefully of Mr. Errol's gloves, which I put on your hands, I shall
have to leave you to put up your specimens the best way you can."

"O Miss Carmichael, now, please let me off this once, and I'll never do
it again. You know it's so hard working in gloves. Understand me as
saying that botanically, in a Pickwickian sense as it were, and not
really at all."

"You must not say that, either botanically or any other way."

"To hear the faintest whisper