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 were given to me," repeated Marjorie. "But I think that you could buy some from the man just down the road there;" she added.

The woman shook her head. "No, I have not time to wait for them to be picked. You can surely sell me those and pay him for some more."

Marjorie's head went up a little, too. "Of course I can't sell what was given to me," she said; "and besides, I can't get up without spoiling my scarf that I am trying to mend. I'm sorry, but I can't do it;" and then she bent lovingly to the precious flowers which sent up to her a little whiff of their fragrance; but with the little whiff of fragrance, came a little whiff of thought;—"Not too busy nor too selfish to give."

Marjorie tossed aside the scarf and jumped up. She separated a half a dozen blossoms and a glossy leaf and tucked them in her belt and then went to the car, ho ding out the bunch to the woman. "You may have them," she said.

The woman took them in her hand. "Now you are sensible," she said coolly, and held out half a dollar.

Marjorie put her hands behind her. "No," she said, "I couldn't take pay for them; but I am glad to give them to you."

"Don't be silly!" said the woman, irritably, still holding out the silver; "If you didn't want the money, why did you give them to me?"