silk shade. She placed it on a table near the fire, and lit a few
candles, which stood on carved brackets round the walls. Then Prissie
saw what made her forget Miss Heath and her shyness and all else-- a
great bank of flowers, which stretched across one complete angle of
the room. There were some roses, some chrysanthemums, some geraniums.
They were cunningly arranged in pots, but had the effect at a little
distance of a gay, tropical garden. Prissie rushed to them, knelt down
by a tall, white Japanese chrysanthemum and buried her face in its
long, wavy petals.

Prissie had never seen such flowers, and she loved all flowers. Her
heart swelled with a kind of wonder; and when, the next moment, she
felt a light and very soft kiss on her forehead she was scarcely
surprised.

"My dear child," said Miss Heath, "I am so sorry I was not in the room
when you came in; but never mind, my flowers gave you welcome."

"Yes," said Prissie, standing up pale and with a luminous light in her
eyes.

"You love flowers?" said Miss Heath, giving her a keen glance.

"Oh, yes; but I did not know-- I could not guess-- that any flower
could be as beautiful as this," and she touched the great white
chrysanthemum with her finger.

"Yes, and there are some flowers even more wonderful. Have you ever
seen orchids?"