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As he wrote a word on his card and waited for an envelope he glanced about the embowered shop, and his eye lit on a cluster of yellow roses He had never seen any as sun-golden before, and his first impulse was to send them to May instead of the lilies But they did not look like her--there was so, in their fiery beauty In a sudden revulsion of ned to the florist to lay the roses in another long box, and slipped his card into a second envelope, on which he wrote the na away, he drew the card out again, and left the eo at once?" he enquired, pointing to the roses

The florist assured him that they would