Hand them out, Tom;" and Mr.
Shaw nodded toward an interesting looking box that stood on the table.
Seizing them wrong side-up, Tom produced three little bouquets, all different in color, size, and construction.
"Why, papa! how very kind of you," cried Fanny, who had not dared to receive even a geranium leaf since the late scrape.
"Your father used to be a very gallant young gentleman, once upon a time," said Mrs.Shaw, with a simper.
"Ah, Tom, it 's a good sign when you find time to think of giving pleasure to your little girls!" And grandma patted her son's bald head as if he was n't more than eighteen.
Thomas Jr.

had given a somewhat scornful sniff at first; but when grandma praised his father, the young man thought better of the matter, and regarded the flowers with more respect, as he asked, "Which is for which ?" "Guess," said Mr.Shaw, pleased that his unusual demonstration had produced such an effect.
The largest was a regular hothouse bouquet, of tea-rosebuds, scentless heath, and smilax; the second was just a handful of sweet-peas and mignonette, with a few cheerful pansies, and one fragrant little rose in the middle; the third, a small posy of scarlet verbenas, white feverfew, and green leaves.
"Not hard to guess.

The smart one for Fan, the sweet one for Polly, and the gay one for Pug.

Now, then, catch hold, girls." And Tom proceeded to deliver the nosegays, with as much grace as could be expected from a youth in a new suit of clothes and very tight boots.
"That finishes you off just right, and is a very pretty attention of papa's.

Now run down, for the bell has rung; and remember, not to dance too often, Fan; be as quiet as you can, Tom; and Maud, don't eat too much supper.