And when Harold's speech was over, and the building was shaking with applause, and flowers were falling around him like rain, she, too, stood up and cheered so loudly that a Boston lady, who sat in front of her, and who thought any outward show of feeling vulgar and ill-bred, turned and looked at her wonderingly and reprovingly.

But in her excitement Jerry did not see the disapprobation in the cold, proud eyes.

She saw only what she mistook for enquiry, and she answered eagerly: 'That's Harold--that's my brother! Oh, I am so proud of him!' And leaning forward so that a curl of her bright hair touched the Boston woman's bonnet, she threw the bunch of pond lilies which she had herself gathered that day on the river at home, before the sun was up, and while the white petals were still folded in sleep.

For Jerry had come down on the early train to see Harold graduated, and Maude had found her in the crowd and sat beside her, almost as pleased and happy as herself to see Harold thus acquit himself.
Maude's roses had been bought at a florist's in Boston at a fabulous price, for they were the choicest and rarest in market.

Harold had seen both the roses and the lilies long before they fell at his feet.