She stopped and looked tentatively at Letitia, as if curious to see how she was taking these revelations.
"Do what?" asked Letitia, not understanding.
"Make the jam. Not that I mind much. But it's a little sort of fancy of my father's. Sometimes older people have those ideas, and it's best to humor them, I think; don't you?"
"Oh, much the best," assented the other, turning aside and looking at the plants. "It 's best to humor everybody; it's so much easier to get on. What beautiful ferns!"
"Yes; I am quite proud of them. But this is a splendid window for ferns."
"Did you raise these yourself? I never saw such plants out of a greenhouse."
Viola was now eagerly interested.
"Yes, I grew them all—some of them from a few roots like black threads. I sell these, too. There is a man at one of the Kearney Street florists' who used to live near here and knew us, and he buys them from me. At Christmas I do quite well."
Letitia examined the ferns.
"I wonder if you would let me buy one or two of them," she said. "We can't get such plants at our florist's, and I am fonder of them than of any other kind of fern."
Viola agreed with a blush of pleasure, and
