THE PURPLE LILYThat old subject for debate that once raged in country school houses on Friday afternoons respecting the relative value of Anticipation and Realization scored a victory for the former again last week.
I had a lily. I had five lilies. I speak of them in the past tense. I had the most promising lilies, with mottled stems, wonderfully exotic and snaky, which promised mysterious flowers. The five came up in a long straight line, in the early spring, and leafed out in a queerly divided leaf, strengthening the belief that here was something rare and strange. I cleared away the grass and other plants, ruthlessly tearing out some unoffending violets that clustered near. I feared they would take nourishment from the lilies.
I led many visitors to the lilies, but no one had seen any
