on the Park flowers when tea is over, Ruth," Olive suggested. "I
wish I knew as much about them as you do."

It was a beautiful afternoon, warm even for July in this part of the
country, although the whole month had been such a mild one that the
peaks of the snow-capped Yellowstone mountains were less white than
usual, from the melting of the snow. Nobody seemed inclined to stir when
tea was over. Ruth was idly twining a wreath of the wild flowers, when
Jean flung herself down by her.

"Don't give us a real botany lesson, Ruth," Jean exclaimed. "I have
thought of a much prettier idea. Suppose you tell us our characters in
flowers. Give each one of us a special posy and then tell us the names
and habits of the flower, and say why you think we are like them."

Ruth laughed. "That's a small order, Miss Bruce," she answered; "but if
Mrs. Harmon doesn't mind our foolish ways of having a good time
together, I'll do my best."

Elizabeth sat up and a faint sparkle came into her eyes and a color in
her face. "I should dearly love to hear our flower natures," Mrs. Harmon
returned, as eager and interested as any one of the company.

Ruth surveyed her bouquet critically. From the center of the tangled
mass in her lap she carefully selected a thick cluster of deep blue
forget-me-nots, and with a perfectly serious face leaned over and stuck
them into Jean's brown hair.

"Here, Jean, suppose we begin with you," she suggested. "I believe a
forget-me-not is your flower."

Jean blushed a soft rose color that no one saw except Ruth. "I don't see
why you select a forget-me-not for my flower, Ruth, dear," Jean remarked
innocently. "I haven't forget-me-not eyes, like Elizabeth and Frieda,
and I'm not a wonderful, unforgettable person, like Olive or Jack."

"Never mind, Jean, I have my own reasons for the choice," Ruth returned,
and Jean suddenly flung her arms around Frieda and drew her to her lap,
so that no one should see her face.

"Olive, dear, you are an evening primrose," Ruth declared, smiling at
her own fancy. "I have an idea that part of the time you close up your
real feelings inside you, just as this flower hides its blossoms in the
daytime. It's almost sunset now and time for it to show its delicate,
pink petals. Don't let yourself grow too reserved, dear. Jack has your
confidence now, but some day it may be best for the rest of us to know
your real dreams and desires." Ruth handed a spray of the blossoms to
Olive, wit