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 cheeks flamed with more brilliant, though less natural, roses than did the cheeks of her daughter; and on a fine day her hat would have caught the eye nearly a thousand yards away.

The sour-faced dowager sniffed in a manner we are little used to associate with our aristocracy, and eyed the gift with cold scorn. The pretty girl bent hastily forward and took them.

"Thank you, you dear little boy," she said.

"Grizel! What a thing to do!" cried her mother. "Taking flowers from a red-headed little beggar! They're infectious! I'm sure of it! Throw them away at once!"

"He's quite a clean little boy, and the violets are quite fresh," said the pretty girl very firmly; and she put the shilling she had ready into the Lump's fat little hand.

"A shilling!" cried her mother. "A shilling for a twopenny bunch of violets! If that's the way you waste your allowance, no wonder you're always hard up at the end of the month! Besides, it's encouraging begging—barefaced begging!"

"Oh, I'm sure they aren't beggars! Look how clean they are," said the pretty girl.