wrists, and across the helpless
limbs was flung a light afghan of pink and gray wool. She made a sweet
picture as she lay and watched her approaching guest with a smile of
interest and welcome.

"The landlord said you would not mind if I came over to see your
flowers," Hazel said with a shy, half-frightened catch in her voice. Now
that she was here she was almost sorry she had come. It might not be his
mother at all, and what could she say anyway? Yet her first glimpse told
her that this was a mother to be proud of. "The most beautiful mother in
the world" he had called her, and surely this woman could be none other
than the one who had mothered such a son. Her highest ideals of
motherhood seemed realized as she gazed upon the peaceful face of the
invalid.

And then the voice! For the woman was speaking now, holding out a
lily-white hand to her and bidding her be seated in the Chinese willow
chair that stood close by the wheeled one; a great green silk cushion at
the back, and a large palm leaf fan on the table beside it.

"I am so pleased that you came over," Mrs. Brownleigh was saying. "I
have been wondering if some one wouldn't come to me. I keep my flowers
partly to attract my friends, for I can stand a great deal of company
since I'm all alone. You came in the big motor car that broke down,
didn't you? I've been watching the pretty girls over there, in their gay
ribbons and veils. They look like human flowers. Rest here and tell me
where you have come from and where you are going, while Amelia Ellen
picks you some flowers to take along. Afterwards you shall go among them
and see if there are any you like that she has missed. Amelia Ellen! Get
your basket and scissors and pick a great many flowers for this young
lady. It is getting late and they have not much longer to blossom. There
are three white buds on the rose-bush. Pick them all. I think they fit
your face, my dear. Now take off your hat and let me see your pretty
hair without its covering. I want to get your picture fixed in my heart
so I can look at you after you are gone."

And so quite simply they fell into easy talk about each other, the day,
the village, and the flowers.

"You see the little white church down the street? My husband was its
pastor for twenty years. I came to this house a bride, and our boy was
born here. Afterwards, when his father was taken away, I stayed right
here with the people who loved him. The boy was in college then, gettin