"I see," said Celia, who was beginning to understand the exigencies of
rank. "Can I help you? Surely there must be something I can do!"

"Well, you can arrange the flowers for me, if you will be so good, my
dear," said Mrs. Dexter. "Mr. Douglas, the head gardener, will cut you
some from the conservatory."

"All right," said Celia eagerly. "You run away and see to the dinner;
and if I can help you in any other way, after I've done the flowers, let
me know."

Herself not unexcited, she interviewed the dignified and extremely
capable head gardener, who, departing from his custom, did not utter any
complaint, but sacrificed his choicest blossoms to the beautiful young
lady to whom he had not yet spoken.

Celia thanked him, and ran off to get the receptacles for the flowers
from the stately Mr. Smith, the butler, and set about arranging the
exquisite blossoms. As she was doing so, she remembered a certain bed of
beautifully-grown pansies on one of the lawns. She picked a great bunch,
and arranged them by themselves in a flat bowl; and when the table was
laid, her floral decorations made a brave show amidst the glittering
plate and old English cut-glass.

"Oh, you've done them beautifully, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dexter; and
even the impassive Smith nodded his head approvingly. Celia was able to
render assistance in various other ways, following Mrs. Dexter
everywhere, and venturing to give a hint now and again. Then, her
excitement increasing, she tried to settle down to her work in the
library; but all the while she was writing down titles in her draft
catalogue she was listening for the sound of the motor, and presently
she heard it buzzing up the drive, followed by hasty footsteps and the
murmur of subdued voices.