Part 2

_The Second Lady:_ "Oh, you mustn't send them to-day! I forgot. It isn't to be till to-morrow. You must send them in the morning. But I am going out of town to-day, and so I came in to order them now. Be very careful not to send them to-day!"

_The Florist:_ "All rhighdt. I loog oudt."

_The Second Lady:_ "I am so glad you happened to ask me. It has all been so dreadfully sudden, and I am quite bewildered. Let me think if there is anything more!" As she stands with her finger to her lip, the first lady makes a movement as if about to speak, but does not say anything. "No, there is nothing more, I believe."

_The Florist_, to the First Lady: "Was there somet'ing?"

_The First Lady:_ "No. There is no hurry."

_The Second Lady_, turning towards her: "Oh, I beg your pardon! I have been keeping you"--

_The First Lady:_ "Not at all. I merely returned to--But it isn't of the least consequence. Don't let me hurry you!"

_The Second Lady:_ "Oh, I have quite finished, I believe. But I can hardly realize anything, and I was afraid of going away and forgetting something, for I am on my way to the station. My husband is very ill, and I am going South with him; and this has been so sudden, so terribly unexpected. The only daughter of a friend"--

_The First Lady:_ "The only"--

_The Second Lady:_ "Yes, it is too much! But perhaps you have come--I ought to have thought of it; you may have come on the same kind of sad errand yourself; you will know how to excuse"--

_The First Lady_, with a certain resentment: "Not at all! I was just ordering some flowers for a reception."

_The Second Lady:_ "Oh! Then I beg your pardon! But there seems nothing else in the world but--death. I am very sorry. I beg your pardon!" She hastens out of the shop, and the first lady remains, looking a moment at the door after she has vanished. Then she goes slowly to the counter.

_The Lady_, severely: "Mr. Eichenlaub, I have changed my mind about the roses and the smilax. I will not have either. I want you to send me all of that jasmine vine that you can get. I will have my whole decorations of that. I wonder I didn't think of that before. Mr. Eichenlaub!" She hesitates. "Who was that lady?"

_The Florist_, looking about among the loose papers before him: "Why, I dton't know. I cot her cart here, somewhere."

_The Lady_, very nervously: "Never mind about the card! I don't wish to know who she was. I have no right to ask. No! I won't look at it." She refuses the card, which he has found, and which he offers to her. "I don't care for her name, but--Where was she sending the flowers?"

_The Florist_, tossing about the sheets of paper on the counter: "She dtidn't say, but she wrhote it down here, somewhere"--

_The Lady_, shrinking back: "No, no! I don't want to see it! But what right had she to ask me such a thing as that? It was very bad taste; very obtuse,--whoever she was. Have you--ah--found it?"

_The Florist_, offering her a paper across the counter: "Yes; here it iss."

_The Lady_, catching it from him, and then, after a glance at it, starting back with a shriek: "Ah-h-h! How terrible! But it can't be! Oh, I don't know what to think--It is the most dreadful thing that ever--It's impossible!" She glances at the paper again, and breaks into a hysterical laugh: "Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! Why, this is the address that I wrote out for that young gentleman's flowers! You have made a terrible mistake, Mr. Eichenlaub--you have almost killed me. I thought--I thought that woman was sending her funeral flowers to--to"--She holds her hand over her heart, and sinks into the chair beside the counter, where she lets fall the paper. "You have almost killed me."

_The Florist:_ "I am very sorry. I dtidn't subbose--But the oder attress must be here. I will fint it"--He begins tossing the papers about again.

_The Lady_, springing to her feet: "No, no! I wouldn't look at it now for the world! I have had one escape. Send me all jasmine, remember."

_The Florist:_ "Yes, all chasmin." The lady goes slowly and absently toward the door, where she stops, and then she turns and goes back slowly, and as if forcing herself.

_The Lady:_ "Mr. Eichenlaub."

_The Florist:_ "Yes, matam."

_The Lady:_ "Have you--plenty--of those white--Bride roses?"

_The Florist:_ "I get all you want of them."

_The Lady:_ "Open, fragile-looking ones, with long, slender stems?"

_The Florist:_ "I get you any kindt you lige!"

_The Lady:_ "Send me Bride roses, then. I don't care! I will not be frightened out of them! It is too foolish."

_The Florist:_ "All rhighdt. How many you think you want?"

_The Lady:_ "Send all you like! Masses of them! Heaps!"

_The Florist:_ "All rhighdt. And the chasmin?"

_The Lady:_ "No; I don't want it now."

_The Florist:_ "You want the smilax with them, then, I subbose?"

_The Lady:_ "No, I don't want any smilax with them, either. Nothing but those white Bride roses!" She turns and goes to the door; she calls back, "Nothing but the roses, remember!"

_The Florist:_ "All rhighdt. I don't forget. No chasmin; no smilax; no kindt of wine. Only Pridte rhoces."

_The Lady:_ "Only roses."

_The Florist_, alone, thoughtfully turning over the papers on his counter: "That is sdrainche that I mage that mistake about the attress! I can't find the oder one anwhere; and if I lost it, what am I coing to do with the rhoces the other lady ortert?" He steps back and looks at his feet, and then stoops and picks up a paper, which he examines. "Ach! here it iss! Zlipped down behindt. Now I don't want to get it mixed with that oder any more." He puts it down at the left, and takes up the address for the young man's roses on the right; he stares at the two addresses in a stupefaction. "That is very sdrainche too. Well!" He drops the papers with a shrug, and goes on arranging the flowers.

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_Plays and Poems_

BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

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