OS, HOW I BECAME A FLORIST. 9 



get on very well with that, if you put Johnny at a trade, 

 and let Mary go into the factory." 



T ' Joseph," I cried, "what do you mean? My Mary in 

 the mill?" 



" Well, just as you like, - I can't help you." 



After he had gone, I lay down sick, weary, and utterly 

 dejected. 



I had not been in my room long, before Mary came to me 

 and said a young lady wished to see me at the door. Wash- 

 ing away the tear-stains, I went down to the front door, and 

 found Miss Dwight from the grand house over the way. 



"Mrs. Gilman, I have a great favor to ask; come into 

 the garden a moment." 



Throwing something over my head, I followed her out 

 into my flower-garden. The sun was bright, and the air 

 fragrant with mignonette. The cheerful, balmy warmth 

 revived me, and I felt better. We went into the walk, 

 among the flowers. It was my husband's garden. He was 

 passionately fond of flowers, and had planted and tended 

 them with his own hands. I had not been in the garden 

 since he died, yet the sight did not make me sad ; I was 

 rather pleased than otherwise. He seemed to be nearer to 

 me, and from that moment I began to love the flowers for 

 his sake. Presently Miss Dwight stopped before a brilliant 

 geranium, and, turning to me, said : 



" Mrs. Gilman, we have friends to dinner to-day. We 

 ordered some flowers of the florist, but they have not come, 



