She planted some pretty-by-nights in an old cracked blue-and-white tea-pot and set it on her window-sill.

Somehow the pretty-by-nights would remind her of Jonas, and while she tried to forget him with one half of her nature, the other and better part (the depraved part, she would have told you) cherished the memory of his smallest act and word.

In fact, the flowers had no association with Jonas except that along with the awakening of her love came this little sentiment for flowers into the dry desert of her life.

But one day Mrs.
Anderson discovered the old blue broken tea-pot with its young plants.
"Why, Cynthy Ann!" she cried, "a body'd think you'd have more sense than to do such a soft thing as to be raisin' posies at _your_ time of life! And that when the world is drawing to a close, too! You'll be one of the foolish virgins with no oil to your lamp, as sure as you see that day." As for Julia's flowers, Mrs.Anderson had rudely thrown them into the road by way of removing temptation from her and turning her thoughts toward the awful realities of the close of time.
But Cynthy Ann blushed and repented, and kept her broken tea-pot, with a fearful sense of sin in doing so.

She never watered the pretty-by-nights without the feeling that she was offering sacrifice to an idol..