I followed Aunt Merce to the flower-stand, which stood in its old place on the landing.
"I have a poor lot of roses," she said, "but some splendid cactuses." "I do not love roses." "Is it possible?
But Verry does not care so much for them, either.
Lilies are her favorites; she has a variety.

Look at this Arab lily; it is like a tongue of fire." "Where does she keep her flowers ?" "In wire baskets, in her room.

But I must go to make Arthur some gingerbread.

He likes mine the best, and I like to please him." "I dare say you spoil him." "Just as you were spoiled." "Not in Barmouth, Aunt Merce." "No, not in Barmouth, Cassy." I went from room to room, seeing little to interest me.

My zeal oozed away for exploration, and when I entered my chamber I could have said, "This spot is the summary of my wants, for it contains me." I must be my own society, and as my society was not agreeable, the more circumscribed it was, the better I could endure it.