"I don't know," I replied; "she's gone with her husband on a visit, and
I've been silly enough to promise to give an eye to the place while
they're away."

"Why, how delightful!" said Miss Mayton. "Such horses! Such flowers!
Such a cook!"

"And such children!" said I, glaring at the Imps, and rescuing my
handkerchief from Toddie.

"Why, they're the best children in the world! Helen told me so. Children
will be children, you know. I don't wish to give any hints, but at Mrs.
Clarkson's, where we're boarding, there's not a flower in the whole
garden. I break the Tenth Commandment every time I pass Colonel
Lawrence's. Good-bye."

"Of course you'll call," said Miss Mayton, as the carriage started;
"it's dreadfully stupid here. No men, except on Sundays."

I bowed assent. In the contemplation of all the shy possibilities my
short chat with Miss Mayton had suggested, I had quite forgotten my
dusty clothing and the two little living causes thereof.


_II.--The Fate of a Bouquet_


Next morning at breakfast Toddie remarked, "Ocken Hawwy, darsh an awfoo
funny chunt upstairs. I show it to you after brepspup."