alysseum

Her nasturtiums blossomed there all winter; from a pot she had suspended by strings from the top of the casing, sweet alysseum flowed downward like a fountain of soft green waters tipped with white; scarlet geraniums shot up rank shoots that had to be pruned into reasonableness, and as to Christmas roses -- "But there!" the worthy soul would assure her acquaintances, "_they_ do beat everything!"

The Little Gold Miners of the Sierras and Other Stories Various