OR, HOW I BECAME A FLORIST. 



Then another meaning look, and, with a solemn shaking 

 of heads, they departed, muttering to themselves : 



" How sad! How sad !" 



As for me, I made a mock heroic flourish with my 

 rake, and executed as profound a courtesy as I knew how. 

 Then I stuck my rake up in the ground and made a speech 

 at it. And this is the speech : 



" Yes, my dears, I thank you for the news. And you, 

 too, Mrs. Jacques, for circulating the report. Insane am I ? 

 Quite mad ! and all because I, a woman, choose to become a 

 florist, and work in my garden. Insane, indeed ! Well, my 

 dears, I shall not change my plans to suit you. Perhaps if 

 you knew how I am paid, you would like to be insane too." 



It being very warm after dinner, I did not venture out, 

 but decided to wait till the mid-day heat had passed off. Ac- 

 cordingly, I took my work and sat down to sew. Sewing 

 being with me almost a mechanical occupation, my thoughts 

 were free to wander where they would. And they did wan- 

 der away to tuberoses. Then the tuberose is a bulb. He 

 "pots in a five-inch, and plunges." A five-inch? What 

 can he mean by a five-inch ? A five-inch pot, perhaps. If 

 I remember rightly, I have heard my husband speak of 

 two-inch and three-inch pots. Yes, that must be it. But 

 "plunging," I never heard of that before. Just then, I 

 glanced at a ragged newspaper on the floor. Picking it up, 

 I discovered it to be " The American Agriculturist, for the 

 Farm, Garden, and Household." Little Mary, in her eager- 



