his
compliments to her father. A new fire flashed from her eye when at last
he approached her and offered her the flowers.

'Oh, Pitt! Oh, Pitt!' was all Esther with bated breath could say. The
colonel eyed the bouquet a moment and then turned to his book. He was
on his sofa, and seemingly gave no further heed to the young people.

'Oh, Pitt, where _could_ you get these?' The girl's breath was almost
taken away.

'Only one place where I could get them. Don't you know old Macpherson's
greenhouse?'

'But he don't let people in, I thought, in winter?'

'He let _me_ in.'

'Oh, Pitt, how wonderful! What is this? Now you must tell me all the
names. This beautiful white geranium with purple lines?'

'It's a _Pelargonium;_ belongs to the Geraniaceae; this one they call
Mecranthon. It's a beauty, isn't it? This little white blossom is
myrtle; don't you know myrtle?'

'And this geranium--this purple one?'

'That is Napoleon, and this Louise, and this Belle. This red
magnificence is a _Metrosideros;_ this white flower, is--I forget its
name; but _this_, this sweet one, is Daphne. Then here are two heaths;
then this thick leaf is _Laurustinus_, and this other, with the red
bud, _Camellia japonica_.'

'Oh, how perfectly beautiful!' exclaimed the delighted child. 'Oh, how
perfectly beautiful! And this yellow flower?'

'_Coronilla_.'

'And this, is it a _red_ wallflower?'

'A red wallflower; you are right.'

'How lovely! and how sweet! And these blue?'

'These little blue flowers are _Lobelia;_ they are cousins of the
cardinal flower; _that_ is _Lobelia cardinalis;_ these are _Lobelia
erinus_ and _Lobelia gracilis_.'

He watched the girl, for under the surprise and pleasure of his gift
her face was itself but a nobler flower, all glowing and flashing and
fragrant. With eyes dewy with delight she hung over the bouquet, almost
trembling in her eagerness of joy. She set the flowers carefully in a
vase, with tender circumspection, lest a leaf might be wronged by
chance crowding or inadvertent handling. Pitt watched and read it all.
He felt a great compassion for Esther. This creature, full of life and
sensibility, receptive to every influence, at twelve years old shut up
to the company of a taciturn and melancholy father and an empty house!
What would ever become of her? There was the colonel now, on the sofa,
attending only to his book; caring nothing for what was so moving his
child. Nobody cared, or was anywhere t