"Thank you, sir," said the flower-girl, curtseying; and taking the
two sixpences into her hand with a delighted smile, was going to run
back again, when the old gentleman, pulling out a pocket-book, said,
"Stay a moment; you are an orphan, they tell me; what is your name?"

"Fanny, sir."

"Fanny what?"

"Please, I don't know, sir; grandmother is Mrs. Newton, sir; but she
says she is not my grandmother either, sir."

"Well, tell me where Mrs. Newton lives," said the gentleman, after
looking at her a minute or so, as if trying to make out what she meant.

So Fanny told him, and he wrote it down in his pocket-book, and then
read over what he had written to her, and she said it was right.

"Now, then, run away back," said he, "and sell all your flowers, if
you can, before they wither, for they will not last long this warm
day; flowers are like youth and beauty--do you ever think of that?
even the rose withereth afore it groweth up." And this fat gentleman
looked very sad, for he had lost all his children in their youth.

"O yes! sir; I know a verse which says that," replied Fanny. "All
flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of
grass--but good morning, and thank you, sir," and away Fanny ran.

And now, before going on with my story, I must go back to tell who
and what Fanny, the flower-girl, was.