J. COLE. 7

Just then the visitors’ bell rang; and I sent
my would-be page into the kitchen to wait
until I could speak to him again, and told
him to ask the cook to give him something to
eat.

“Here are your flowers,” I said; “ take them
with you.”

He looked at me, and then, as if ashamed
of having offered them, gathered them up in
his hands, and with the corner of the red
handkerchief wiped some few leaves and dust-
marks off my table, then saying in a low voice,
“JT didn’t know you ’ad beauties of yer
own, like them in the glass pots, but I'll giv’
*em to the cook.” So saying, he went away
into the kitchen, and my visitors came in, and
by and by some more friends arrived.

The weather was very warm, and we sat
chattering and enjoying the shade of the trees
by the open French window. Presently, some-
body being thirsty, I suggested lemonade and
ice, and I offered strawberries, and (if possible)
cream; though my mind misgave me as to the
latter delicacy, for we had several times been
obliged to do without some of our luxuries if