ions, and after
this kind of thing," and I pointed to the beautiful silver and the port,
"how will you like roughing it in a hard world?"

"Don't think I shall mind a bit; it would be rather a pleasant change.
Also, even if my father doesn't alter his mind, as he may, for he likes
me at bottom because I resemble my dear mother, things ain't so very
bad. I have got some money that she left me, L6,000 or L7,000, and I'll
sell that 'Odontoglossum Pavo' for what it will fetch to Sir Joshua
Tredgold--he was the man with the long beard who you tell me ran up
Woodden to over L2,000--or failing him to someone else. I'll write
about it to-night. I don't think I have any debts to speak of, for the
Governor has been allowing me L3,000 a year, at least that is my share
of the profits paid to me in return for my bullion-broking labours, and
except flowers, I have no expensive tastes. So the devil take the past,
here's to the future and whatever it may bring," and he polished off the
glass of port he held and laughed in his jolly fashion.

Really he was a most attractive young man, a little reckless, it is
true, but then recklessness and youth mix well, like brandy and soda.

I echoed the toast and drank off my port, for I like a good glass of
wine when I can get it, as would anyone who has had to live for months
on rotten water, although I admit that agrees with me better than the
port.

"Now, Mr. Quatermain," he went on, "if you have done, light your pipe
and let's go into the other room and study that Cypripedium of yours. I
shan't sleep to-night unless I see it again first. Stop a bit, though,
we'll get hold of that old ass, Woodden, before he turns in."

"Woodden," said his master, when the gardener had arrived, "this
gentleman, Mr. Quatermain, is going to show you an orchid that is ten
times finer than 'O. Pavo!'"

"Beg pardon, sir," answered Woodden, "but if Mr. Quatermain says that,
he lies. It ain't in Nature; it don't bloom nowhere."

I opened the case and revealed the golden Cypripedium. Woodden stared at
it and rocked. Then he stared again and felt his head as though to make
sure it was on his shoulders. Then he gasped.

"Well, if that there flower baint made up, it's a MASTER ONE! If I could
see that there flower ablowing on the plant I'd die happy."

"Woodden, stop talking, and sit down," exclaimed his master. "Yes,
there, where you can look at the flower. Now, Mr. Quatermain, will
you tell us the story of tha