ROBERT INTRODUCES ME TO THE ROSES. 105

but the bare idea fills me with dismay;
and giving Mother a hasty kiss, I run out of
the room and up into my own.”

“Good gracious!” I think to myself, as I
lean my arms on the window-sill, “I never
thought of that. Shall I have to tell Father?
I suppose I shall. It will be only right, of
course. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what a deal of
misery those few wretched roses have led
to!”

At this juncture I hear a wheel-barrow
being trundled along underneath my win-
dow, and, disregarding the possible danger
of falling into it, I lean half out in order to
ascertain what is going forward.

It is Robert wheeling the two identical
pots of roses, with some others, towards the
gate, beyond which I can just descry a small
covered cart waiting.

“Robert!” I cry, “are you sending off the
flowers now?”

“Yes, Miss,” he replies, looking up rather
startled; “why? would you like a peep at
them afore they goes?”