"I am sure that Margaret would clothe herself more discreetly," he remarked in a voice which sounded husky because he tried to make it facetious.

"When I was a young man it was the fashion to compare women to flowers, and in these unromantic days I should call Margaret our last violet--" A peal of laughter fell from the bright red lips of Mary Byrd.

"It sounds as depressing as the last rose of summer," she cried, "and it's just as certain to be left on the stem--" Then she broke off, still pulsing with merriment, for the door opened slowly, and the last violet entered the room..