Georgie
was not at all discomfited.
"'My mother says,'" he continued, reading his manuscript, "'we
should treat our teacher as a friend, and so _I_ will write YOU a
letter.'"
This penetrated Penrod's trance, and he lifted his eyes to fix
them upon the back of Georgie Bassett's head in a long and
inscrutable stare. It was inscrutable, and yet if Georgie had
been sensitive to thought waves, it is probable that he would
have uttered a loud shriek; but he remained placidly unaware,
continuing:
"'I thought I would write you about a subject of general
interest, and so I will write you about the flowers. There are
many kinds of flowers, spring flowers, and summer flowers, and
autumn flowers, but no winter flowers. Wild flowers grow in the
woods, and it is nice to hunt them in springtime, and we must
remember to give some to the poor and hospitals, also. Flowers
can be made to grow in flower-beds and placed in vases in houses.
There are many names for flowers, but _I_ call them "nature's
ornaments.--'"
Penrod's gaze had relaxed, drooped to his button again, and his
lethargy was renewed.
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