efer heardt off it."

_The Lady:_ "No, but that would have been just the thing. It suggests
the color of her hair; it would go with her. Well, I will have the
smilax too, though I don't like it. I don't see why all the flowers
should take to being so inexpressive. Send all the smilax you judge
best. It's quite a long table, nine or ten feet, and I want the vine
going pretty much all about it."

_The Florist:_ "Perhaps I better sendt somebody to see?"

_The Lady:_ "Yes, that would be the best. Good-morning."

_The Florist:_ "Goodt--morning, matam. I will sendt rhoundt this
afternoon."

_The Lady:_ "Very well." She is at the door, and she is about to open
it, when it is opened from the outside, and another lady, deeply veiled,
presses hurriedly in, and passes down the shop to the counter, where the
florist stands sorting the long-stemmed Bride roses in the box before
him. The first lady does not go out; she lingers at the door, looking
after the lady who has just come in; then, with a little hesitation, she
slowly returns, as if she had forgotten something, and waits by the
stove until the florist shall have attended to the new-comer.

_The Second Lady_, throwing back her veil, and bending over to look at
the box of roses: "What beautiful roses! What do you call these?"

_The Florist:_ "That is a new rhoce: the Pridte. It is jost oudt. It is
coing to be a very bopular rhoce."

_The Second Lady:_ "How very white it is! It seems not to have the least
touch of color in it! Like snow! No; it is too cold!"

_The Florist:_ "It _iss_ gold-looging."

_The Second Lady:_ "What do they use this rose for? For--for"--

_The Florist:_ "For everything! Weddtings, theatre barties, afternoon
dteas, dtinners, funerals"--

_The Second Lady:_ "Ah, that is shocking! I can't have it,
then. I want to send some flowers to a friend who has lost
her only child--a young girl--and I wish it to be something
expressive--characteristic--something that won't wound them with other
associations. Have you nothing--nothing of that kind? I want something
that shall be significant; something that shall be like a young girl,
and yet--Haven't you some very tall, slender, delicate flowers? Not this
deathly white, but with, a little color in it? Isn't there some kind of
lily?"

_The Florist:_ "Easder lilies? Lily-off-the-valley? Chonquils? Azaleas?
Hyacinths? Marcuerites?"

_The Second Lady:_ "No, no; they won't do, any of them! Haven't you any