"There can be no doubt of that; but then men are so ungrateful. I must confess I can't quite get over that girl at Handek. The idea of his helping her to shell peas!" "It was very kind of him." "It was nothing of the sort; it was a downright shameless piece of flirtation, and I shall take him to task for it. I shouldn't so much have minded it if _I_ had been the girl; would you? Oh, how foolish of me!--there is a postscript to the letter. Just think of a young woman forgetting a 'P.S.'!" "As if you did not know it was there!" said Phoebe, with a tender smile. "What does it say?" "Well, I never! Just listen. 'P.S.--My own dearest girl----'" "Eh?" cried Phoebe. "No; it is a mistake of mine. He has left that out. 'P.S.--I have kept this letter by me four days, and it is time I posted it, or I shall be home before you receive it. I expect to reach London on Friday morning.' What do you think of that, Phoebe? How many to the minute is your heart going? Friday morning. The day after to-morrow. I shan't be able to sleep a wink. But there is something more, Phoebe; that is not the end of the postscript. It goes on: 'Enclosed are two small packets, one with your name outside, one with Miss Farebrother's. I dare say you have not seen the flower they contain. It is the edelweiss, a flower which, always worn, brings luck and good fortune. If you will give me the opportunity, when I come home, I shall regard it as a great favour if you will allow me to put a piece of edelweiss in lockets for you both. With constant regards, Fred C.' Here is your packet, Phoebe." Phoebe opened the paper, and gazed at the white flower, around which the traveller had arranged a few forget-me-nots. "He calls it," said Fanny, "a flower of luck and good fortune. _I_ know the right name for it, if he doesn't." "What is its right name?" asked Phoebe. "It is a love flower--nothing less. I shall put mine under my pillow, and shall dream of My Own. Not yours--mine; I am not a poacher. I will tell you what he is like in the morning. Good-night, dear Phoebe." "Good-night, darling," said Phoebe. Both the girls put their flowers of love under their pillows, and had happy dreams. CHAPTER XV. JEREMIAH PAMFLETT'S OPINIONS OF GIRLS.