"They ought to; they charge New York prices," observed the lawyer,
sententiously.

Theron found in the words confirmation of his feeling that Gorringe was
not naturally a lavish or extravagant man. Rather was he a careful and
calculating man, who spent money only for a purpose. Though the minister
continued gazing at the stiff presentments of local beauties and
swains, his eyes seemed to see salmon-hued hollyhocks and spotted lilies
instead. Suddenly a resolve came to him. He stood erect, and faced his
trustee.

"Speaking of the price of things," he said, with an effort of arrogance
in his measured tone, "I have never had an opportunity before of
mentioning the subject of the flowers you have so kindly furnished for
my--for MY garden."

"Why mention it now?" queried Gorringe, with nonchalance. He turned his
cigar about with a movement of his lips, and worked it into the corner
of his mouth. He did not find it necessary to look at Theron at all.

"Because--" began Mr. Ware, and then hesitated--"because--well, it
raises a question of my being under obligation, which I--"

"Oh, no, sir," said the lawyer; "put that out of your mind. You are no
more under obligation to me than I am to you. Oh, no, make yourself easy
about that. Neither of us owes the other anything."

"Not even good-will--I take that to be your meaning," retorted Theron,
with some heat.