"I know about predestination," cried Lovey Mary, eagerly. "Miss Bell
used to tell us all those things."

"Who did?"

Lovey Mary flushed crimson. "A lady I used to know," she said
evasively.

Miss Viny crossed the garden, and stopped before a bed of stately
lilies and azaleas. "These are 'Piscopals," she explained. "Ain't they
tony? Jes look like they thought their bed was the only one in the
garden. Somebody said that a lily didn't have no pore kin among the
flowers. It ain't no wonder they 'most die of dignity. They're like
the 'Piscopals in more ways 'n one; both hates to be disturbed, both
likes some shade, an'"--confidentially--"both air pretty pernickity.
But to tell you the truth, ain't nothin' kin touch 'em when it comes
to beauty! I think all the other beds is proud of 'em, if you'd come
to look into it. Why, look at weddin's an' funerals! Don't all the
churches call in the 'Piscopals an' the lilies on both them
occasions?"

Lovey Mary nodded vaguely.

"An' here," continued Miss Viny, "are the Unitarians. You may be
s'prised at me fer havin' 'em in here, 'long with the orthodox
churches; but if the sun an' the rain don't make no distinction, I
don't see what right I got to put 'em on the other side of the fence.
These first is sweet-william, as rich in bloom as the Unitarian is in
good works, a-sowin' theyselves constant, an' every little plant a-