These single flowers--the last of their race--Shirley culled as she wandered thoughtfully amongst the beds. She was fastening into her girdle a hueless and scentless nosegay, when Henry Sympson called to her as he came limping from the house.
"Shirley, Mr. Moore would be glad to see you in the schoolroom and to hear you read a little French, if you have no more urgent occupation."
The messenger delivered his commission very simply, as if it were a mere matter of course.
"Did Mr. Moore tell you to say that?"
"Certainly; why not? And now, do come, and let us once more be as we were at Sympson Grove. We used to have pleasant school-hours in those days."
Miss Keeldar perhaps thought that circumstances were changed since then; however, she made no remark, but after a little reflection quietly followed Henry.

These single flowers - the last of their race - Shirley culled as she wandered thoughtfully amongst the beds. Henry Sympson called to her as he came limping from the house.
"Shirley, Mr. Moore would be glad to see you in the schoolroom and to hear you read a little French, if you have no more urgent occupation."
"Did Mr. Moore tell you to say that?"
"Certainly; why not? Do come, and let us once more be as we were at Sympson Grove. We used to have pleasant school-hours."
Miss Keeldar perhaps thought that circumstances were changed since then; however, she made no remark, but quietly followed Henry.
