journey. On that evening she slept at Delft; and, on the following morning, she reached Haarlem, four hours after Boxtel had arrived there.
Rosa, first of all, caused herself to be led before. Mynheer Van Herysen, the President of the Horticultural Society of Haarlem.
She found that worthy gentleman in a situation, which, to do justice to our story, we must not pass over in our description.
The President was drawing up a report to the Committee of the Society.
This report was written on large-sized paper, in the finest handwriting of the President.
Rosa was announced simply as Rosa Gryphus; but, as her name, well as it might sound, was unknown to the President, she was refused admittance.
Rosa, however, was by no means abashed, having vowed in her heart, in pursuing lier cause, not to allow herself to be put down either by refusal, or abuse, or even brutality.
“Announce to the President,” she said to the servant, “that I want to speak to him about the black tulip.”
These words seemed to be an “Open Sesame,” for she soon found herself in the office of the President, Van Herysen, who gallantly rose from his chair to meet her.
He was a spare little man, resembling the stem of a flower, his head forming its chalice, and his two limp arms representing the double leaf of the tulip; the resemblance was rendered complete by his waddling gait, which made him even more like that flower, when it bends under a breeze.
“Well, miss,” he said, “you are coming, I am told, about the affair of the black tulip.”
