Mrs. Woodbourne was sitting at her favourite little work-table,
engaged, as usual, with her delicate Berlin embroidery. A few of the
choicest of the flowers had been instantly chosen out for her, and
were placed on her table in a slender coloured glass, which she held
up to Elizabeth as she entered the room.
'Oh, how beautiful!' cried Elizabeth, advancing to the table, which
was strewn with a profusion of flowers. 'What delightful heliotrope
and geranium! Oh, Anne! how could you tear off such a branch of Cape
jessamine? that must have been your handiwork, you ruthless one.'
'Anne has been more kind to us than to her greenhouse,' said Mrs.
Woodbourne; 'I am afraid she has displeased Mr. Jenkins; but I hope
the plants are not seriously damaged.'
'Oh no, indeed,' said Anne, 'you should see the plants before you
pity them, Aunt Mildred; we never let Mr. Jenkins scold us for
helping ourselves or our friends out of our own garden, for making a
great glorious nosegay is a pleasure which I do not know how to
forego.'
'Do you call this a nosegay?' said Elizabeth, 'I call it a forest of
flowers.
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