"
"You know the people?" asked Christie, with the sympathetic tone in
her voice.
"Never saw or heard of them till to-day. Isn't it enough to know
that 'baby's dead,' as the poor man said, to make one feel for
them?"
"Of course it is; only you seemed so interested in arranging the
flowers, I naturally thought it was for some friend," Christie
answered hastily, for David looked half indignant at her question.
"I want them to look lovely and comforting when the mother opens the
box, and I don't seem to have the right flowers. Will you give it a
touch? women have a tender way of doing such things that we can
never learn."
"I don't think I can improve it, unless I add another sort of flower
that seems appropriate: may I?"
"Any thing you can find."
Christie waited for no more, but ran out of the greenhouse to
David's great surprise, and presently came hurrying back with a
handful of snow-drops.
"Those are just what I wanted, but I didn't know the little dears
were up yet! You shall put them in, and I know they will suggest
what you hope to these poor people," he said approvingly, as he
placed the box before her, and stood by watching her adjust the
little sheaf of pale flowers tied up with a blade of grass.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278