Miss Berton glanced at it, then cast a quick look at the sweet, anxious face before her, and smiled so brightly that Belle smiled also, and asked, wonderingly: 

“What is it?  What do you see?”

“I see the dear young lady who was so kind to me long ago.  You don’t remember me, and never knew my name; but I never have forgotten you all these years.  I always hoped I could do something to show how grateful I was, and now I can, for you shall have your flowers if I sit up all night to make them.”

But Belle still shook her head and watched the smiling face before her with wondering eyes, till the girl added, with sudden color in her cheeks: 

“Ah, you’ve done so many kind things in your life, you don’t remember the little errand girl from Madame Tifany’s who stole a rose in your hall, and how you gave her rubber boots and cake and flowers, and were so good to her she couldn’t forget it if she lived to be a hundred.”

“But you are so changed,” began Belle, who did faintly recollect that little incident in her happy life.

“Yes, I had a fall and hurt myself so that I shall always be lame.”

And Lizzie went on to tell how Madame had dismissed her in a rage; how she lay ill till Mrs. Brown sent her to the hospital; and how for a year she had suffered much alone, in that great house of pain, before one of the kind visitors had befriended her.

While hearing the story of the five years, that had been so full of pleasure, ease and love for herself, Belle forgot her errand, and, sitting beside Lizzie, listened with pitying eyes to all she told of her endeavors to support herself by the delicate handiwork she loved.

“I’m very happy now,” ended Lizzie, looking about the little bare room with a face full of the sweetest content.  “I get nearly work enough to pay my way, and Estelle sends me some when she has more than she can do.  I’ve learned to do it nicely, and it is so pleasant to sit here and make flowers instead of trudging about in the wet with other people’s hats.  Though I do sometimes wish I was able to trudge, one gets on so slowly with crutches.”

A little sigh followed the words, and Belle put her own plump hand on the delicate one that held the crutch, saying, in her cordial young voice: 

“I’ll come and take you to drive sometimes, for you are too pale, and you’ll get ill sitting here at work day after day.  Please let me; I’d love to; for I feel so idle and wicked when I see busy people like you that I reproach myself for neglecting my duty and having more than my share of happiness.”

Lizzie thanked her with a look, and then said, in a tone of interest that was delightful to hear: 

“Tell about the wreath you want; I should so love to do it for you, if I can.”

Belle had forgotten all about it in listening to this sad little story of a girl’s life.  Now she felt half ashamed to talk of so frivolous a matter till she remembered that it would help Lizzie; and, resolving to pay for it as never garland was paid for before, she entered upon the subject with renewed interest.