ur bookay to pieces for me,"
she answered civilly, but with just the slightest toss of her head.
She was really a little hurt and jealous, for she had seen that Penelope's
offer to Mrs. Vercoe was quite spontaneous. Penelope, conscious of the
feeling that had been in her own heart, was ashamed and sorry.
"Do please let me give you one," she said earnestly. "I want to.
I have such a lot it would be greedy to keep them all."

Mrs. Bennett backed into her shop. "Won't you come inside, missie?" she
said, much more graciously. "Your little hands are almost too small;
you'm in danger of dropping some of them."

Penelope followed her in gladly enough. She could not bear to think she
had hurt any one's feelings, even any one she did not particularly like.
Mrs. Bennett led the way into her parlour, where Penelope had never been
before. It held all the treasures she was most proud of, and the window
was full of geraniums, fuchsias, and hanging baskets of 'Mothers of
Thousands,' blocking out most of the light. While Penelope was selecting
a flower Mrs. Bennett stepped to the window.

"Are you fond of flowers, miss?"

"Oh, _very_," said Penelope, "I _love_ them. I wish I could grow some.
I think I shall ask Cousin Charlotte to let me have a little bit of garden
of my own. Do you think I should ever get anything to grow?"

She talked on rapidly, partly because she was really interested and partly
in the hope of ministering balm to Mrs. Bennett's wounded feelings.

"Oh yes, missie, of course you could, and if you'd like a split or two of
geranium I'd be glad to give 'ee some off of any of mine, or you could
have 'em in pots in your own windy. Have 'ee got a windy-ledge to your
room?"

"Yes," said Penelope eagerly.

"Then you could grow mignonette and lots of things there. Look at mine.
I've got flowers 'most all the year round."

Penelope stepped over to look closer at the beautiful pelargoniums, the
great white geraniums, and graceful fuchsias, all blooming as happily in
their narrow space as though it had been a handsome conservatory.

"Oh, and what is that?"

Two halves of a cocoanut shell hung from the top of the window with a
curious little creeping plant growing in them, and sending long, hanging
tendrils down over the sides.

"I was going to ask you if you would accept one of these, missie, by way
of a beginning. We calls 'em 'Mothers of Thousands' here, and a very good
name for 'em. I tilled both th