"Are you Miss Viny?" asked Lovey Mary, glancing at the old-fashioned
flower-garden beyond.

"Well, I been that fer sixty year'; I ain't heared of no change,"
answered the old lady.

"Miss Hazy sent me after some yellowroot," said Lovey Mary,
listlessly.

"Who fer?"

"Me."

Miss Viny took a pair of large spectacles from her pocket, put them on
the tip of her nose, and looked over them critically at Lovey Mary.

"Stick out yer tongue."

Lovey Mary obeyed.

"Uh-huh. It's a good thing I looked. You don't no more need yallerroot
than a bumblebee. You come in here on the porch an' tell me what's
ailin' you, an' I'll do my own prescriptin'."

Lovey Mary followed her up the narrow path, that ran between a mass of
flowers. Snowy oleanders, yellow asters, and purple phlox crowded
together in a space no larger than Miss Hazy's front yard. Lovey Mary
forgot her troubles in sheer delight in seeing so many flowers
together.