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 care for pretty flowers like pansies and phlox and petunias. That's the kind I like best.

I do too, Ambrose agreed, feeling comfortable for the first time since he had left New York.

When I come out here I says I was going to have some plants like the kind I—we had at home. Imperia says go ahead, tell the gardener what you want and all and he'll fix it for you. So I did, and he did. We sent for seeds and cuttings and it began to grow like this. It ain't so much trouble as the orchids—I guess you ain't seen the hothouse yet—but it's prettier. Anyway I think so.

Where do you come from, Mrs. Starling? Ambrose queried, his heart warming towards this homely creature, lost, like himself, in this exotic locality.

I—we come from Ohio, Chillicothe, Ohio. It's more homelike there, don't you think?

I certainly do.

The sun don't shine so much, of course, and it gets cold in the winter, but sometimes I think I'll die if this sun don't stop shinin'. I wake up some mornings and I pull down all the shades and turn on the electric lights to pretend it's rainin' outside. Sometimes it does rain, but not often. Some days I get just crazy to see a snowdrift and feel a chill. Then Imperia