"I don't know what come over me," explained Alaska later on to a couple of astonished ladies who had hurried in to see if the report was true that she had parted with one of her geraniums. "For the life of me, I don't know how I happened to do it. 'Specially the one I was proudest of, too. I've always said I'd never sell one of my plants,--not even if the President of the United States was to come in and offer me untold millions for it,--and here I--I--why, Martha, I almost GAVE it to him, honest I did. I just couldn't seem to help letting him have it. Of course, I don't mind its loss half so much, knowing that it is going to Alix. She loves flowers. She'll take the best of care of it. But how I ever came to--" "Don't cry, Alaska," broke in one of her callers cheerfully. "You'll be getting it back before long." "Never," lamented Alaska. "What makes you think I'll get it back?" she went on, suddenly peeping over the edge of her handkerchief. "Why, as soon as Alix knows how miserable you are about parting with that geranium, she'll send it back to you,--and you'll be two dollars ahead. Don't be silly." Repairing at once to the house on the knoll, Courtney took counsel with Mrs. Strong. The housekeeper could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the geranium. "Well, all I've got to say is that you must have stolen it," she exclaimed. "There couldn't be any other way to get one of those plants away from Alaska Spigg." "Be that as it may," said he airily, "what we've got to decide now, Mrs. Strong, is just where to put it. I want to surprise Miss Crown when she returns from town." "She'll be surprised all right when she finds out you got one of Alaska Spigg's pet geraniums. I remember Alaska saying not so long ago that she wouldn't sell one of those plants for a million dollars. Now let me see. It ought to go where it will get as much sun as possible. That would be in the dining-room. I guess we'd better--" "I really think it would look better right here in this room, Mrs. Strong," said he, indicating one of the windows looking out over the terrace. There was little or no sunlight there, but he did not mind that. As a matter of fact, he wasn't at all concerned about the future welfare of the plant. It meant no more to him than the customary bunch of violets that one sends, "sight unseen," to the lady of the hour. "Well, you're the boss. It's your plant," said Mrs. Strong briskly. "Alaska Spigg will go into hysterics when she hears where you've put it,--but that's of no consequence." And so the plant was placed on a small table in the window of the long living-room. "Link Pollock told us last night that you may go to Philadelphia to join your son, Mrs. Strong," said he, as he watched her arranging the window curtains. Mrs. Strong flushed. "It did not occur to me to ask Mr. Pollock not to repeat what I said to him in confidence," she said, with dignity.