who hope to see her wear their gifts, for one evening at least," answered the doctor, examining the bouquet, with an odd smile.
"Oh, she does keep some, when they are from folks she likes. I was there one day when some violets come in with a book, and she wouldn't give me one. But I didn't care a mite, for I had two great posies, all red geranium and pinks, instead."
"She likes violets, then?" and the doctor gently patted Betty's head, as if he had grown suddenly fond of her.
"I guess she does, for when I went the next week, that very bunch was in the vase on her table, all dead and yeller, and she wouldn't let me fling it away, when I wanted to put in a rose from the bush she gave me."
"You are a grateful little girl, my dear, and a very observing child. Now keep warm and quiet, and we'll have you trotting off to Miss Helen's in a week or so."
The doctor stole a sprig of rose geranium out of Betty's last bouquet, and went away, looking as if he had found something even sweeter than that in the dingy room where his patient lay.
Next day Miss Helen had fresh violets in the vase
