_The Lady:_ "Yes, or everybody _was_ on Monday when I saw them. Everybody is looking very beautiful this winter, lovelier than ever, if possible. But so spiritual! _Too_ spiritual! But that spirit of hers will carry her--I mean everybody, of course!--through everything. I feel almost wicked to have asked her to pour tea for me, when I think of how much else she is doing! Do you know, I was just ordering the flowers for my Saturday, and I had decided to take her for my key-note in the decorations. But that made it so difficult! There doesn't seem anything delicate and pure and sweet enough for her. There ought to be some flower created just to express her! But as yet there isn't." _The Young Man:_ "No, no; there isn't. But now I must run away. I haven't been to my hotel yet; I was just driving up from the ship, and I saw the flowers in the window, and--stopped. Good-by!" _The Lady:_ "Good-by! What devotion to somebody--everybody! Don't forget my Saturday!" _The Young Man:_ "No, no; I won't. Good-by!" He hurries out of the door, and his carriage is heard driving away. _The Florist:_ "I wondter if he but the attress on the cart? No; there is noding!" He turns the card helplessly over. "What am I coing to do about these flowers?" _The Lady:_ "Why, didn't he say where to send them?" _The Florist:_ "No, he rhon away and dtidn't leaf the attress." _The Lady:_ "That was _my_ fault! I confused him, poor fellow, by talking to him. What are you going to do?" _The Florist:_ "That is what I lige to know! Do you know what hotel he stobs at?" _The Lady:_ "No; he didn't say. I have no idea where he is going. But wait a moment! I think I know where he meant to send the flowers." _The Florist:_ "Oh, well; that is all I want to know." _The Lady:_ "Yes, but I am not certain." After a moment's thought. "I know he wants them to go at once; a great deal may depend upon it--everything." Suddenly: "Could you let me see that card?" _The Florist_, throwing it on the counter before her: "Why, soddonly; if he is a frhiendt of yours"-- _The Lady_, shrinking back: "Ah, it isn't so simple! That makes it all the worse. It would be a kind of sacrilege! I have no right--or, wait! I will just glance at the first word. It may be a clew. And I want you to bear me witness, Mr. Eichenlaub, that I didn't read a word more." She catches up a piece of paper, and covers all the card except the first two words. "Yes! It is she! Oh, how perfectly delightful! It's charming, charming! It's one of the prettiest things that ever happened! And I shall be the means--no, not the means, quite, but the accident--of bringing them together! Put the card into the box, Mr. Eichenlaub, and don't let me see it an instant longer, or I shall read every word of it, in spite of myself!" She gives him the card, and turns, swiftly, and makes some paces toward the door. _The Florist_, calling after her: "But the attress, matam. You forgot."