says he, and then he turned and went off to bed. And I can't get any
more out of him; he is as snarly when I ask any questions as though he
was mad about it all. If it hadn't been for this great white thing I
might have thought this morning that it all belonged to the dream. But
Dirk brought this home from somewhere, and put it in the pitcher, and
give it to me his own self; that's sure."

The story closed in triumph.

"It is beautiful!" said Sallie, the brown jacket slipping to the floor,
while she bent over the lily. "It is beautiful, all of it, and it looks
just like her, and sounds like her, wings and all; of course she sent
it."

"And Dirk brought it." That part of the story Mart Colson did not
forget.

Sometimes it seems to me a pity that hearts are not laid bare to the
gaze of others. What, for instance, might not this little incident have
done for Dirk Colson had he known how the starved heart of his sister
fed on the thought that he brought her the flower?

Still, on the other hand, I don't know what the effect would have been
on Mart had she known what a tremendous amount of courage it had taken
to present the flower to her. A dozen times on the way home had Dirk
been on the point of consigning it to the gutter. _He_ carry home a
flower! If it had been a loaf of bread he thought it would be more
consistent. Someway he recognized a fine sarcasm in the thought that he,
who had never in his life contributed towards the necessities of the
family, should carry to that dreary home a flower! Yet the fair lily did