286 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



When next the suitor sees his sweetheart, will she 

 bring with her the written approbation of his suit, 

 even as Miss Wilson returned from the one Pro- 

 fessor, her father, to the other Professor, Aytoun, 

 her lover, having a slip of paper pinned upon her 

 dress, and upon that paper the happy words, 

 "With the author's compliments"? When next 

 the exhibitor sees his Roses, will there be a prize- 

 card on his box ? 



He wonders fretfully. He retires to his hotel. 

 He refreshes the outer and the inner man. What 

 can be the matter with the coffee-room clock ? 

 how slowly it ticks ! how the long hand lags and 

 limps ! every minute marked upon the dial might 

 be a pebble upon the grass-plat of the future, 

 blunting the scythe of Time. Will that selfish 

 snob in the corner never put down the news- 

 paper ? He will, he does ; the exhibitor seizes it 

 eagerly, and reads it, or rather gazes vacantly 

 upon it for nearly a minute and a half What 

 are money-markets or murders to him ? Sixteen 

 closely-printed pages, and not one word about the 

 Roses ! He throws down the Times and looks 

 out of the window. Ah, there is a shop opposite 

 with pictures and photographs ; strolls across ; has 

 seen them all before ; is getting rather sick of 

 photographs ; strolls back again ; must have been 



