at drew
even his inexperienced eye to admire them.

"I'm afraid there's no doubt of it," said Mrs Bosenna. "I love the old
H.P.'s: but you must grow the Teas and Hybrid Teas nowadays, if you want
to exhibit. Yet I love the old H.P.'s, and I've planted a few, to hold
their own and just show as they won't be shamed. See this one now--
there's a proper Jubilee rose, and named _Her Majesty!_ Brought out,
they tell me, in 'eighty-five: but the Yankees bought up all the stock,
and it didn't get back into this country until 'eighty-seven, the last
Jubilee year. See the thorns on her, _and_ the stiff pride o' stem,
_and_ the pride o' colour--fit for any queen! She's not the best,
though. . . . She'll do for last Jubilee--not for this. Wait till
you've seen the best of all!"

She led them to a plant--stunted by the secateurs, yet vigorous--which
showed, with three or four buds as yet closed and green, one solitary
bloom, pure white and of incomparable shape.

"There!" said she proudly. "That's a tea, and the finest yet grown, to
_my_ mind. That's the rose for this Diamond Jubilee, and white as a
diamond. A proper royal Widow's rose!"

"Is that its name?" asked Cai.

Mrs Bosenna laughed and plucked the bloom.

"On the contrary," said she with a mischievous twitch of the mouth,
"'tis called _The Bride!_ There's only one bloom, you see, and I can't
offer to part it. Now which of you two 'd like it for a buttonhole?"

She held out the rose, challenging them.

"I--I--" stammered Cai, backing against 'Bias's knuckles which dug him
in the back--"I grant ye, ma'am, 'tis a fine rose--a lovely rose--but
for my part, a trace o' colour--"

"Bright red," prompted 'Bias.

"Bright red--for both of us--"

"And now I've plucked it," sighed Mrs Bosenna.

"Well, if you won't, perhaps Mr Middlecoat will, rather than waste it."

Mr Middlecoat stepped forward and allowed the enormous bloom to be
inserted in his buttonhole, where its pure white threw up a fine
contrast to his crimsoning face.

"You won't think me forward, I hope?" said Mrs Bosenna, turning about.
"The fact is--though I don't want it generally known yet--that yesterday
Mr Middlecoat, in his disagreeable way, made me promise to marry him?"

Before the pair could recover, she had moved to another bush.

"Red roses, you prefer? Red is rare amongst the Teas--there's but one,
as yet, that can be called red--if this suits you? And, by luck, there
are two per