ROSES AND THORNS
David pulled a rose from the little bush by the house corner, and
began to chew its petals.
"Don't do that!" begged Polly. "It doesn't want to be eaten up."
The boy laughed, looking ruefully down at the jagged edges of the
flower.
"It isn't sweet anyway," he argued. "If I were a rose I'd be sweet,
and I wouldn't have thorns. But then," he went on thoughtfully,
"people are a good deal like roses. Some are sweet, and some aren't;
but 'most everybody has thorns somewhere."
"I guess one of mine's laziness," sighed Polly, "and it's been
pricking the teachers all this week. I hate to study in such warm
weather! I want to stay outdoors instead of being shut up in a stuffy
room."
"It is horrid," agreed Patricia, "but I don't dare be lazy. I have to
get good reports to send back to Nevada. If I didn't stand high,
papa'd have a conniption."
"I'm going to study better next week," decided Polly, "so I'll be a
thornless rose, like you."
"Dear me, I have thorns enough!" Patricia laughed. "Mamma says I'm
selfish and careless and, oh, I don't know what! So, you see, they
scratch her. What's your thorn, David?"
"Jealousy," he replied promptly.
Patricia looked surprised.
"Who are you jealous of?" she queried curiously.
"Nobody just this minute." He threw a furtive glance in Polly's
direction, over the rose he was nipping again; but she was occupied
with the tendrils of a vine that were wandering from their support.
"I wish we had some Lady Gay roses to cover our old bare piazza," he
broke out abruptly. "Yours are fine." He looked admiringly towards the
little cottage next door, now beautiful in its bloom and greenery.
"Hasn't anybody bought your house yet, has there?" asked Patricia.
"No," Polly answered, "not that we've heard of. Father says the price
is too high."
"Lucky for you," remarked David. "And lucky for us, too," he laughed.
"I don't know but Uncle David would want to sell out if you folks
should leave."
"Why don't you have some roses?" questioned Polly, coming back to the
flowers. She gazed up at the stately columns, free of living
adornment, and decided the matter quickly.
"They'd make it lovely!" she beamed. "Silver Moons would be splendid
all over these pillars, and Lady Gays on the side piazza. Mrs. Jocelyn
has an elegant Silver Moon, roses as big as that,"--curving her
fingers into as wide a circle as they could compass,--"just single
white, with great yellow anthers--oh, they're beautiful! I wish your
uncle would get some. Why don't you ask him, David?"
"You may," he evaded.
"I believe you don't dare," Polly cried. "David Collins, are you
afraid of him yet? Why, I don't see how you can be, he is so nice."
The lad laughed. "I suppose I can't quite get over those years I stood
in such awe of him," he confessed. "But," he added, "he's fine; nobody
could be finer."
"Polly was telling me the other day," put in Patricia, "about the time
she and Colonel Gresham chased after Dr. Dudley for you. I wish I
could have seen Lone Star go."
"There! I haven't had a glimpse of Lone Star for a week!" Polly broke
out. "Is he in the stable, David? Let's go and see him!"
Away they raced, to visit the famous trotter, and to feed him with
bread and butter and sugar which David begged from the cook. They were
still petting the affectionate animal when Colonel Gresham walked in.
"Ah, I've caught you!" he growled. "Now I know what makes my horse
have indigestion!"
Patricia, looking a bit scared, stopped short in her feeding; but Lone
Star nosed down to the piece of bread in her hand.
David and Polly chuckled, understanding the Colonel better, and
Patricia, seeing his laughing eyes, at once recovered herself.
"Who wants to go to ride with Lone Star and me?" Colonel Gresham
asked.
There was a duet of "I's" from the girls. David said nothing.
"Sorry my buggy will permit of only one invitation. We shall have to
draw cuts, shan't we?"
Three lengths of straw were made, the Colonel arranging them as if he
were used to the business. The children eyed them with lively
interest.
"You choose first, Patricia," Polly said, and they watched
breathlessly while her fingers wavered in front of the big, steady
hand before daring to pull.
Finally she plucked at one. It was the longest of all.
"Oh, dear!" she lamented.
"Now, Polly!" bade David.
"That will leave you Hobson's choice," she laughed; but he motioned
her on, and she caught at the nearest one.
It was an inch shorter than the remaining straw, and she smiled up at
the Colonel.
"Miss Dudley, may Lone Star and I have the pleasure of your
comradeship for the next hour?" he invited, bowing low.
"I shall be very happy to go," she laughed, sweeping him a little
curtsy.
Presently the carriage was ready, Polly and the Colonel jumped in, and
Patricia and David sent merry good-byes in the wake of Lone Star's
flying feet.
"I can't help being glad I won," confessed Polly, drawing a long
breath of delight at the drive in store for her.
Colonel Gresham smiled responsively, tucked the linen duster a little
closer, asked her if she were quite comfortable, and then began a
little story in the life of his favorite horse.
As they passed through the pleasant streets, between front dooryards
banked with flowers, the talk after a while led quite naturally to
climbing roses for the Colonel's own house.
"If only you could see Mrs. Jocelyn's roses!" Polly wished. "There
couldn't be any lovelier ones."
She told him of the great single Silver Moons, and pictured them on
his own piazza, until he said he must surely have some.
"Oh!" cried Polly, the thought suddenly popping into her head, "why
can't we go round to Mrs. Jocelyn's and see hers? It won't be very
much out of our way, and then you can tell just how they'll look. You
know Mrs. Jocelyn, don't you?"
Colonel Gresham nodded gravely.
"Then you won't mind going to see her roses, shall you?" Polly
chattered on. "She has a big rose garden at the side of the house,
lots of beautiful ones; but I 'most know you'll like the Silver Moon
kind best."
"I don't believe I like any kind of roses," the Colonel broke out
abruptly. "They have too many thorns. Somebody would always be getting
scratched if they were on my piazza. I reckon I won't have them, after
all."
Polly started to speak, looked up, and then shut her lips on the
words. The stern set of her companion's face forbade talk. Yet in a
moment it softened, the words came again, and this time they were not
forced back.
"Roses are so beautiful, and the thorns are so little I forget about
them." She halted, but the Colonel did not respond.
"Once when I was a very small girl," she went on, "I picked a rose in
our yard, and scratched my hand so it bled. I ran, crying, to mamma;
but she didn't pay any attention to that, only told me to look at the
rose. It was a lovely tea rose, the color of sunset when the sky is
all yellow with just a bit of a pink flush. She talked about it, till
I forgot my finger. When I happened to recollect, the hurt seemed so
little compared with that beautiful rose. I guess that's why I don't
mind thorns any more. I've always remembered it."
"A good thing to remember," spoke out Colonel Gresham fervently, "and
a blessed thing to live up to--if only we could! But some thorns
pierce deep!"
He did not look at Polly. One might have thought him talking to Lone
Star, for his eyes were on the horse's head.
"Yes, some are bigger than others," Polly replied innocently. "They
hurt more. But Silver Moon doesn't have very many. Oh," she cried
earnestly, thinking of the rose, "I do wish you could see those of
Mrs. Jocelyn's! Isn't it funny," she went on musingly, "how she always
calls you David, just as if you were one of her very best friends!
Only very best friends call each other by their first names, do they?
I mean grown-up people. I guess she thinks a lot of you. Sometimes her
eyes--you know what dark, shiny eyes she has--well, sometimes when
she's talking about you they get so bright and soft, they're just
beautiful! I think she is a lovely lady, don't you?"
"I presume she is, from what I hear," replied the Colonel. "I haven't
seen her in a long time. But how comes it that she speaks of me? I
can't see any occasion for it."
"Oh, I don't know! She talks of you very often. She thinks a lot of
David. You know he goes up there with me a good deal."
"David Collins!--goes up to see Mrs. Jocelyn?" Colonel Gresham was
plainly surprised.
"Why, not Mrs. Jocelyn exactly, but Leonora. Didn't he ever say
anything about it? We go up 'most every week."
"Ah, yes, Leonora! I had forgotten. She is the adopted child?"
Polly recounted the story of Leonora's adoption, to which the Colonel
listened attentively; but he made few comments, and when it ended he
was silent.
Polly did not know what to think of Colonel Gresham to-day; in fact
she began to feel as if she were not quite acquainted with him. She
was strangely reminded of that other day, not a year ago, when she
chose her happy reward, "to the half of his kingdom." If he were like
this at home, she wondered no more that David sometimes refrained from
asking him questions. She was still thinking about it, when, suddenly,
his customary genial manner returned, and they reached home in such
high spirits that David would have been surprised to have learned that
any part of the drive had been passed in silence.