But there, you're better! Drink this like a good girl, and you'll feel better still!" Meekly, with the docility of great weakness, Columbine swallowed the proffered nourishment.

She wanted to recall all that had happened, but her brain felt too clogged to serve her.

She could only lie and gaze and gaze at a little vase of wild white roses that faced her upon the mantelpiece.

Somehow those roses seemed to her to play an oddly important part in her awakening.
"Where did they come from ?" she suddenly asked.
Mrs.Peck glanced up indifferently.

"They're just those little common things that grow with the pinks on the cliff," she said.
But that did not satisfy Columbine.