When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little they all went out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presents for mother. They bought her a pink silk handkerchief, a pair of blue and white vases, a bottle of scent, a packet of Christmas candles, and a cake of soap shaped and coloured like a tomato, and one that was so like an orange that almost anyone you had given it to would have tried to peel it--if they liked oranges, of course. Also they bought a cake with icing on, and the rest of the money they spent in flowers to put in the vases. When they had arranged all the things on a table, with the candles stuck up on a plate ready to light the moment mother's cab was heard, they washed themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes. Then Robert said, "Good old psammead," and the others said so too. "But, really, it's just as much good old Phoenix," said Robert. "Suppose it hadn't thought of getting the wish!" "Ah!" said the Phoenix, "it is perhaps fortunate for you that I am such a competent bird." "There's mother's cab," cried Anthea, and the Phoenix bird and they lighted the candles, and next moment mother's cab was home again. She liked her presents very much, and found their story of Uncle Reginald and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe. "Good old carpet," were Cyril's last sleepy words. "What there is of it," said the Phoenix, from the cornice-pole. FOOTNOTES: [A] Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited. _The Making of a Lily._ BY F. MARTIN DUNCAN. [Illustration: 1.--A "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, SHOWING THE UNDERGROUND STEM WITH NEXT YEAR'S BUDS.] [Illustration: 2.--A RETARDED "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY BEFORE BEING PLANTED IN THE FORCING-HOUSE.] To the question, "What are your favourite flowers?" a large majority of people will be found to promptly answer, "Lilies." And every year these beautiful flowers seem to become more and more popular. They have a charm peculiarly their own, unmatched by any other flower; while a halo of romance has encompassed them from the earliest dawn of civilization, inspiring poets, painters, and all lovers of the beautiful in Nature. North, south, east, and west collectors have travelled, diligently seeking for new species, until a wonderful collection of all sorts, shapes, and sizes of lilies has been brought together, to enrich our gardens and greenhouses with their graceful forms and delicate tints. But in spite of all this continual importation of gorgeous and distinguished foreigners, flaunting it bravely in scarlet and gold, our own native lily of the valley still ranks first favourite in the hearts of the people. Nor is this constancy surprising, for what can be more charming than the exquisite cool green of its foliage or the sweet, fresh fragrance of the clusters of its pure white flowers? [Illustration: 3.--AFTER A WEEK IN THE FORCING-HOUSE THE BUD BEGINS TO SWELL.]