. "Yes, yes; oh yes. Kitty? Good morning, dear. Come to
lunch? Do, dear. Delighted of course. It will only be a very scratch
meal--just the sandwich crusts and broken meringue-shells and what's
left over. Yes, isn't it a perfect morning? Your white? Oh, I certainly
should. One moment--hold the line. Mother's calling." And Laura sat
back. "What, mother? Can't hear."

Mrs. Sheridan's voice floated down the stairs. "Tell her to wear that
sweet hat she had on last Sunday."

"Mother says you're to wear that sweet hat you had on last Sunday. Good.
One o'clock. Bye-bye."

Laura put back the receiver, flung her arms over her head, took a deep
breath, stretched and let them fall. "Huh," she sighed, and the moment
after the sigh she sat up quickly. She was still, listening. All the
doors in the house seemed to be open. The house was alive with soft,
quick steps and running voices. The green baize door that led to the
kitchen regions swung open and shut with a muffled thud. And now there
came a long, chuckling absurd sound. It was the heavy piano being moved
on its stiff castors. But the air! If you stopped to notice, was the air
always like this? Little faint winds were playing chase, in at the tops
of the windows, out at the doors. And there were two tiny spots of
sun, one on the inkpot, one on a silver photograph frame, playing too.
Darling little spots. Especially the one on the inkpot lid. It was quite
warm. A warm little silver star. She could have kissed it.

The front door bell pealed, and there sounded the rustle of Sadie's
print skirt on the stairs. A man's voice murmured; Sadie answered,
careless, "I'm sure I don't know. Wait. I'll ask Mrs Sheridan."

"What is it, Sadie?" Laura came into the hall.

"It's the florist, Miss Laura."

It was, indeed. There, just inside the door, stood a wide, shallow tray
full of pots of pink lilies. No other kind. Nothing but lilies--canna
lilies, big pink flowers, wide open, radiant, almost frighteningly alive
on bright crimson stems.

"O-oh, Sadie!" said Laura, and the sound was like a little moan. She
crouched down as if to warm herself at that blaze of lilies; she felt
they were in her fingers, on her lips, growing in her breast.

"It's some mistake," she said faintly. "Nobody ever ordered so many.
Sadie, go and find mother."

But at that moment Mrs. Sheridan joined them.

"It's quite right," she said calmly. "Yes, I ordered them. Aren't they
lovely?" She pressed Laura's a