126 ON WILD ROSE'S HIGHWAY 



but he has a way of coaxing several roses to grow 

 from little shoots, or clippings that he takes from 

 one rose. He told me himself that since roses 

 had been helped along by gardeners they had lost 

 nearly all the little yellow things from their 

 centers, and now are nothing but petals, which 

 all look alike. 



The leaves of Wild Rose remind me of other 

 rose leaves. I mean that they have leaflets growing 

 on each side of the stem, and that one leaflet alone 

 makes a point at the end. About the edges they 

 are cut as though they were fine little saws. 



I'm glad Tommy loves Wild Rose better than 

 the ones that grow in the garden. He didn't tell 

 me so, still I know it quite well. This is the way 

 I found it out: 



One day Grandmother and I were going along 

 the highway, and just as we came near the place 

 where Wild Rose is very beautiful, and Wild 

 Strawberries are already ripe, we heard a voice, 

 although we could see no one. We waited a 

 minute. It was not a bird, we knew, but just 

 as we stood quite still to listen it stopped, and a 

 locust began singing. 



" I've told you this before, Rosie dear," we 

 heard the voice say. Then the locust sang very 

 loudly, and it was some time before the voice 

 called out: 



" Next to Columbine, you're my favorite 

 flower." 



