onger. The Christmas play
had given him courage to hope, and the oration today had filled him with
tender pride; but the sight of those blooming brides and beaming grooms
was too much for him, and he panted to secure his Alice without an
hour's delay. Daisy was his confidante in all things but this; a
brotherly feeling of sympathy had kept him from telling her his hopes,
because her own were forbidden. His mother was rather jealous of any
girl he admired; but knowing that she liked Alice, he loved on and
enjoyed his secret alone, meaning soon to tell her all about it.

Now suddenly Josie and the rose-bush seemed to suggest a speedy end
to his tender perplexities; and he was moved to accept her aid as the
netted lion did that of the mouse.

'I think I'll write,' he was slowly beginning, after a pause during
which both were trying to strike out a new and brilliant idea.

'I've got it! perfectly lovely! just suit her, and you too, being a
poet!' cried Josie, with a skip.

'What is it? Don't be ridiculous, please,' begged the bashful lover,
eager, but afraid of this sharp-tongued bit of womanhood.

'I read in one of Miss Edgeworth's stories about a man who offers three
roses to his lady--a bud, a half-blown, and a full-blown rose. I don't
remember which she took; but it's a pretty way; and Alice knows about
it because she was there when we read it. Here are all kinds; you've got
the two buds, pick the sweetest rose you can find, and I'll tie them up
and put them in her room. She is coming to dress with Daisy, so I can do
it nicely.'

Demi mused a moment with his eyes on the bridal bush, and a smile came
over his face so unlike any it had ever worn before, that Josie was
touched, and looked away as if she had no right to see the dawn of the
great passion which, while it lasts, makes a young man as happy as a
god.

'Do it,' was all he said, and gathered a full-blown rose to finish his
floral love-message.

Charmed to have a finger in this romantic pie, Josie tied a graceful
bow of ribbon about the stems, and finished her last nosegay with much
content, while Demi wrote upon a card:

DEAR ALICE, You know what the flowers mean. Will you wear one, or all
tonight, and make me still prouder, fonder, and happier than I am?

Yours entirely,

JOHN

Offering this to his sister, he said in a tone that made her feel the
deep importance of her mission:

'I trust you, Jo. This means everything to me. No jokes, dear, if