"She has bought you."
"That is something different. Then the poor woman must have worked hard to save so much money. Good! Half of my blossoms shall belong to her."
The man laughed a little sadly, saying, "Oh, beloved Rose-bush, you don't yet know the world, I can see that. The lady did not lift a finger to earn the money."
"Then how did she get it?"
"She owns a great factory in which countless workers drudge; from there comes her wealth."
The Rose-bush became angry, lifted a bough up high, threatened the man with her thorn-claws, shouting, "I see you enjoy yourself at my expense because I am still young and inexperienced, telling me untruths about the world of men. Still I am not so stupid, I have observed ants and bees, and know that to each belongs the things for which he has worked."
"That may be so among bees and ants," the man sighed deeply, "yet among men it is different. There the people receive just enough to keep them from starving—all else belongs to the master. The master builds splendid mansions, plants lovely gardens, buys flowers."
"Is that really true?"
"Yes."
The man went back to his work and the Rose-bush began to meditate. Yet the longer she thought, the worse her temper grew. Yes, even tho she usually had very fine manners, she spoke roughly to a bee who wished to visit her. The bee was still young and timid, and flew off in fright as fast as his wings could carry him. Then the Rose-bush was sorry for her rough behavior, because she was naturally friendly, and also because she might have asked the bee whether the man had spoken the truth.
