Then she continued her thoughts aloud.

"It's more than likely, my dear, that the Czar would appoint Count Storri Ambassador to Washington." "It would be extremely intelligent of the Czar, I'm sure," returned Dorothy with a twinkle.
The next morning a colored youth clad in the garish livery of an Avenue florist made his appearance on the Harley premises bearing aloft an armful of flowers as large as a sheaf of wheat.

By the card they were for "Miss Harley." The morning following, and every morning, came the colored youth bearing an odorous armful.

Who were they from?
The card told nothing; it was the handwriting of the florist.
"Don't you think it might be Count Storri ?" said Dorothy demurely, taking her pretty nose--the nose Richard saved--out of the flowers.
"Those Russians are so extravagant, so eccentric!" "Suppose I thank him for them," observed Mrs.Hanway-Harley; "that would bring him out!" "No, no," exclaimed Dorothy hastily; "it might embarrass the Count." "Pshaw! I'll ask the florist." "No; that would offend the Count.

You see, mamma, he thinks that we will know without asking.