OR, HOW I BECAME A FLORIST. 11 



street, and sat down to think over my wretched lot. 

 While I turned over in my mind all the sad detafls of my 

 situation, I twisted the bit of paper in my hand till I nearly 

 tore it in two. This brought me to myself again, and I 

 mechanically unrolled the bill and looked at it. 



"There must be some mistake. What could she have 

 been thinking of? She has paid me too much. It was 

 not possible that those flowers were worth five dollars." 

 And yet, there it was, a new, clean, five-dollar bill, 

 more money than I could earn*in a week of sewing ! 



In a moment I had my things on, and fairly flew across 

 the street, and hastily rang the Dwights' bell. To the 

 servant who came to the door I handed the bill, saying : 



"Give that to Miss D wight, if you please, and tell her 

 that Mrs. Oilman thinks there is some mistake." 



In a few moments the servant returned, and, giving me 

 the bill again, informed me, with Miss D wight's compli- 

 ments, that everything was quite correct. 



Turning from their door, I walked slowly home just as 

 the sun was going down. As I entered my gate, a new 

 idea suddenly came to me. Quickening my pace, I ran up- 

 stairs to my room. No time for tears now. My oppor- 

 tunity had come. God had not forsaken the widow and 

 fatherless. It only remained for me to improve the oppor- 

 tunity which He had thrown in my path. 



Taking a bandbox from the closet, and an old penknife 

 from my husband's bureau, I returned to the garden and 



