r greatest gift is her power of imitation. She has a
sensitive nature that is open to impressions, and she sees the funny
side of everything. She really is a wonderful little mimic. You must see
her to appreciate her charm."

The quiet woman looked as if she thought this a doubtful accomplishment,
but the one who had eagerly listened said:

"Where is she? I should be _so_ pleased to see her. Not all children are
so interesting. Many are dull."

"And lucky they are!" growled old Mr. Cunningham, under his breath, but
the ladies did not hear that.

* * * * *

"I don't want these flowers now I've picked them," cried Floretta. "You
can have them if you want them," she said, as she turned toward Dorothy.

"I can't hold any more than I have," said Dorothy, "but you could--"

"Then here they go!" cried Floretta, as she flung them broadcast, to lie
and wilt in the sunlight.

"Oh, it was too bad to throw them away," said Dorothy. "I was going to
say, if you didn't care for them, perhaps Mrs. Hermanton might like
them. She said she liked wild flowers and used to pick them, but her
rheumatism won't let her pick them now."

"Pooh! I wouldn't have bothered to take them back to her," Floretta
replied; and turning about, she ran back to the hotel.

"Come here, Floretta!" said Mrs. Paxton. "This lady wishes to see you."

Usually Floretta when asked to do anything, preferred to do something
else.

This time, thinking that she saw an opportunity for a lark, she went
promptly and paused beside her mother's chair.

"This is Mrs. Dayne, Floretta. Mrs. Dayne, this is my little daughter."

Floretta looked up and smiled, but said nothing. She had never been
taught that she must reply courteously when spoken to.

Her pretty face pleased Mrs. Dayne, who was much the same sort of woman
that Mrs. Paxton was. She wished that Floretta could be induced to
perform.

_Induced!_ She was already wondering if she would have a chance to show
off.

The opportunity came soon, and she was delighted.

Mr. Cunningham had become drowsy, and his magazine dropped to the piazza
floor.

In stooping to recover it, he hurt his gouty foot, and cried out.

"_Oh_, oh-o!" he cried, and like an echo, "_Oh_, oh-o!" cried Floretta,
catching hold of her own foot and hopping wildly about.

Of course Mrs. Paxton laughed gaily, as if Floretta had done a very
smart thing, while Mrs. Dayne, who was as silly a woman as Mrs. Pa