their hearts, but the men who had
plucked them would--not at once, but when they had become less entranced
and were seeking for defects. Then perhaps they would throw the roses
away. But the man who had the perfect rose--the one which was perfect
because it had been well protected--did not know of the havoc he had
wrought. He was too much interested in wondering why he did not enjoy
his rose, why it seemed so commonplace and really tiresome. He did not
know that it was he who had become unable to appreciate it, through his
own indulgence begun in an idle moment, while he had waited for his
flower to blossom."

* * * * *

She paused to look into his face. He was listening. Then she went on:

"You say you are a man; you have only thought of one side; you have only
wanted the perfect rose. You may get one, but if you do it will be one
which has been carefully guarded. You are not intending to break or
bruise the other roses; you are just going to handle them because the
other boys do. You will enjoy their fragrance, but you will leave
wounded petals. Then after a time, if you travel far enough into the
garden, you will grow indifferent to the havoc you are doing and will
carelessly crush the flowers. You may grow so cruel that you will enjoy
it. There are men who do, and they started out as free from intention to
harm as you were to-night. You caressed Dorothy; John caressed her. The
next boy who comes along will find it easier to be free with her, and
unless there is some one who cares enough to guard her she will be torn
from the stem before she has blossomed. If you had kissed Rose to-night
it would have been easy for you to kiss her again. You haven't yet, have
you?"

He shook his head.

"I am so glad," she continued. "It will be so much better for her. If
she permits you these familiarities she will permit others the same
ones. She may soon become as reckless as Dorothy, and then we dare not
think of the future. You can see now what a wonderful flower she
promises to make. She is a perfect little bud. Would you not hate to
think that you were spoiling the promise of that bud?"

"Forgive me for being so cross," he begged.

"Yes, dear," and she kissed his lips. "But we are going to look at your
side now. God made you so that you have certain desires, certain
cravings, that you are to control. Many men will say that they are only
to be satisfied, but we know better. The first kiss