Middletown transcript., 1912-11-09
The Wrong Rose
BY Joanna Single

Mrs. johnson asked the queSJlon
with polite malice and in a casual
tone as she adjusted her wraps
and prepared to end her call.
The girls me ther was, however,
mistress of herself-and Of the
situation.
| hope to keep my girl as long
as I can, she said simply. | sup
pose mother will never get over
thinking she has first claim
Isn't it a lovely day for March ?
My plants are taking new lease
Of life-see that geranium p? She
manuevered her caller to the
door with the change of subject.
What the mother said to her.
self was that if Avis was not en-
gagged to John Avery she should
be, in the light of his constant
attendance, his claiming so much
of the girls time and interest
that the numerous other men in
her wake a year before had
seemingly yielded their ground
all except, perhaps, Guy Hardin,
who persisted intermittenly in
calls. dances and theater invita-.
tions and the like. Mrs. Horton
wished that the girls father was
living or that she had a brother
to John Avery to account. She
herself shrank from intimating
to the young man that his friend
" prerogative should not give
him the rights Of lover, that, in
short, he should ask Avis to
marry him, or clear the field and
give others a chance.
Not that John Avery was any
thing she could find the slightest
objection to. He was simply, it
seemed to the mother, rather a
laggard in love. Or was it over
delicacy, his not pressing his
claim. till Avis was bit older
and better acquainted with him
Still-surely a year was enough
of a test.
Just then she heard Avis whirl-
ing down the stairs to answer a.
ring of the door bell. In a mo-
ment she entered, her dainty
blond face in a glow Of pleasure,
a cluster of pink roses in her
hands. They were Avery roses
and had been coming every few
days for montH always the
same, There Used to be carna-
tions from Harry York, violets
from Guy, and various offerings
from others, but now there were
8ffy pink roses.
The mothegenoted the girls
wistful absorption in them, as
she put them in bowl and stood
bending over their fresh frag-
rance. She thought that this
young man needed little more
competition, but she did not wish
to make the girl conscious, to let
her think she wished her to
marry at all-she did not. But
she knew Guy Hardin was not
the man to be safehold for a |
young wife's happiness, whereas
John could be trusted.
I'm going to a atheater, mother,
dear, the girl said; I forgot to tell |
you before.
With Guy? asked the mother,
with an impartial voice.
He was too slow-John asked
me first. The tenderness in her
voice hurt the mother-it was
John who was too slow. She |
hoped the girl might not show
her love until it was asked for. |
What was to be done ? AS she
paused she saw Avis lean her
fair head over the pink roses and |
murmur:
You darlings But-sometimes
wish you were red, red roses.
A wish which was food for reAec-
ton to the mothers mind.
Avis, all smiles, went to the
play, her dark young cavalier
bending adoringly over her, shut
ting her out from anything, any
body but himself, selfish with
the supreme selfshness of young
love.
The next day marked a change
in things. Guy Hardin called in
the afternoon and outdid himself |
in interesting the girl. He rallied
her into taking a long walk with
him. At dusk, as he left her
again at her door and swung
laughingly off, a florists boy
handed her a long slender box.
Guy turned back at her exclama.
ton as she opened it and took
out single exquisite red rose.
She breathed her delight.
Oh, Guy how-lovely of you
He had come back to stand be-
side her in the doorway.
What's 1Ovn1v Of mo To 1ovo