. Some merely contained long lists
of Latin names, and others were far too learned and scientific to
interest schoolgirls. A few, however, treated the subject from its
romantic side, and quoted passages of poetry such as they wanted. Miss
Russell, who had encouraged them to try for the prize, gave them
permission to use the library when they pleased; so for the next few
days they spent most of their spare time there.

It was a pleasant occupation, and one that seemed to bring them into
touch with the old poets who had loved Nature so dearly, and sung so
charmingly about her blossoms. It was quite wonderful to think that
nearly six hundred years ago Chaucer had noticed and recorded the little
golden heart and white crown of the daisy; and that King James I of
Scotland, while pining as Henry IV's prisoner in Windsor Castle, could
remember and write of--

"The sharpe, greene, sweete juniper,
Growing so fair with branches here and there".

The competition proved most interesting, and, as it happened, was to be
connected with unforeseen occurrences.

One afternoon, Cicely, who was trying to work her way systematically
along the shelves, brought down a thick, bulky volume, bound in brown
leather, with metal corners, and entitled _Floral Calendar_.

"This must be an old one," she remarked. "Look how yellow the paper is,
and there are actually long S's. Someone has scribbled notes all round
the edges of the pages."

"I wonder if it was Sir Giles Courtenay?" said Lindsay.

Cicely turned to the flyleaf at the beginning. Yes, in exactly the same
rather straggling hand was the inscription:

"GILES PEMBERTON COURTENAY,
HAVERSLEIGH MANOR,
SOMERSET."

"He seems to have been fond of writing in his books," said Lindsay.
"What's this opposite his name?"

On the inside of the cover quite a long piece of poetry had been copied.
It appeared to be something in the nature of an acrostic or charade, and
it ran thus:--

ENIGMA

My _First_, among flowers you can't find a better,
'T was used by a king for securing a letter.
My _Second_, whose blossoms of yellow soon fade,
Comes out every night in the calm evening shade.
My _Third_, oft called Iris, is much in demand,
It grows on an island named Van Diemen's Land.
My _Fourth_, a wild flower with sweet golden eye,
Is more blessing than "torment" to all who pass by.
My _Fifth_, with great trusses of lavender hue,
Is the sweetest of shrubs that the