THERESA. Well, _now_ I suppose I can leave the flowers. [_Exit_ Theresa, _laughing_. MARIE. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Max. MAX. What on earth do you mean? MARIE. Aren't these flowers yours? MAX. Good Heavens! I can afford a few pennies for a bunch of violets once in a while, but this-- Oh, no! MARIE. Nor yesterday's? MAX. No, nor yesterday's. [Marie _rings_.] _Enter_ Theresa. MARIE. Please throw these flowers away. THERESA. What! Throw those beautiful flowers away? MARIE. You are right. The pastor would say, "If God's gifts do not please us, we must at least take care that they give pleasure to others." Wouldn't he? MAX. Probably he would. MARIE. Then you had better take them back to the florist's. Did they come from Zimmerman's? [Theresa _nods_.] Well, we'll sell them if we can, and give the money to Pastor Heffterdingt for his hospital. THERESA. Shall I go now? MARIE. After you have made the coffee. I'll serve it myself. [_Exit_ Theresa.] These flowers are an insult! I need not tell you, Max, that I have given no one the shadow of an excuse for such a thing. MAX. I'm very sure of that. MARIE. And papa was so angry. He simply stormed. And I was quiet because I suspected it was you. If he got hold of the poor fellow, it would go hard with him. MAX. Do you think it would be any better if I got hold of him? MARIE. What rights have you in the case? MAX. Marie! [_Takes her hand_.] MARIE. [_Gently disengaging herself_.] Oh, Max, please--not that. You know every corner of my heart. But we must think of the proprieties. MAX. Proprieties! Oh, pshaw! MARIE. Well, you know what a world we live in. Here, every one is afraid of every one else because each depends upon the good opinion of the other. If a few anonymous flowers can make me talked of, how much more-- MAX. Oh, yes, I know. MARIE. [_Laying her hand on his shoulder_.] Max, you'll speak again to Aunt Frankie, won't you, about the guaranty[1] of your income? MAX. I have already. MARIE. Well? MAX.