"My dear little creature!" she exclaimed ecstatically,--"are you going with us?"
"No," said Fleda.
"Where are you going then?"
"To England."
"England!--Has--I mean, is there any addition to my list of acquaintances in the city?"
"Not that I know of," said Fleda, going on with her work.
"And you are going to England!--Greenhouses will be a desolation to me!--"
"I hope not," said Fleda smiling;--"you will recover yourself, and your sense of sweetness, in time."
"It will have nothing to act upon!--And you are going to England!--I think it is very mean of you not to ask me to go too and be your bridesmaid."
"I don't expect to have such a thing," said Fleda.