We passed through one of the French windows, out on the piazza, and sat there late into the night. Snatches of conversation came to us again and again, and Mrs. Burkhardt’s sweet soprano as she and Elsie sang together, while Irving accompanied on the mandoline. But we, Penelope and I, remained alone, each happy in the other.
The last night came, as all “last nights” must, and with it, “in sympathy with our mood,” was the General’s courteous construction, came a heavy, moaning storm. Will poked the fire and piled on the logs as though a blizzard were raging without. Finally, he paused and said, “I guess, Pen, dear, you may have your wish. No one will disturb our family serenity this night.”
How cosy it seemed and how happy all appeared. Elsie and Mrs. Burkhardt, Irving and Bob were playing checkers in the next room. Ned and Penelope were talking about dogs and horses and comparing their relative intelligence. The General was looking over some foreign photographs, while Will and I bestowed our attention on the fire.
“Truly,” spoke General Bolton, “did you ever get up early enough to see Covent Garden Market in its glory!”
“Oh, General, do you mean to infer absolute laziness, or do you mean that the gray gloom of London would forbid an early awakening?”
“Never mind what I inferred. Did you ever go to the market—early?”
“Strange as it may seem to you, I did. I went one morning to Covent Garden Market, and early, about six o’clock, with an English girl. It was a wonderful sight.”
“See,” he interrupted, “it was this picture of a costermonger with the palms and ferns that made me ask you.”
“It is very natural—the little donkey, the barrow and all. And how very cheap the plants and flowers are—why that morning I bought for sixpence as many moss roses and buds as I could carry.”
“Gertrude, did you ever see that?” And Will gave me a printed slip that he had been searching for in his pocketbook. It was called the Floral Test.
“No, but isn’t it good? Let’s ask the others the questions and see who can answer the most.”
“Come, all you people,” called Will, and he stepped over to the next room. “Aren’t you tired of checkers? Gertrude has a new game.”
When all were seated around expectantly he said: “Now, Gertrude, you ask the questions and we’ll reply. It is called,” he explained, “the Floral Test. She’ll ask questions and we’ll give answers in the names of flowers.”