"Very likely you are right. Of course, I have ducks on the ranch, and that may be the reason I am never bothered," said the Colonel. "You certainly have wonderful roses. I've not seen such deep colour anywhere else."
"Then it's your own fault," boomed Mrs. Stanley. "It's a matter of nails, iron filings, old cans. Bury 'em at the roots. Anybody can do it who who will take the trouble."
"That is worth knowing, isn't it, Boyd," commented the Colonel cheerfully. "But you have one rosebud whose bloom is not due to iron filings."
"Which one is that?" demanded Mrs. Stanley, casting her commanding eye about her.
"I refer to Dora," said the Colonel, gallantry. "She has grown into a beauty."
"Oh, Dora! Yes, she has a good complexion. Nothing mysterious about it. Fresh air, wholesome food, open air exercise, no late hours. Mothers are fools. They let their children go traipsing around at all hours eating messes and then wonder they look sallow and sick. Perfect nonsense!"
"I daresay you are right," was the Colonel's comment, "of course you are: the results show for themselves. Still, young people are young—seems to me when I was that age the most blissful thing in the world was to dance the whole night through. And the dance just at dawn was the best of all. We have to allow something for the young spirit."
"Young fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Stanley, energetically. "Just a nonsensical idea. I think the way the modern child is allowed to run wild without self control or discipline is a scandal. I do my duty by my children, and I expect them to have a sense of responsibility. I furnish them with opportunity for every healthful amusement, and give them free rein; but I do not allow them to stuff or sit up all hours."
"I daresay you are right," repeated the Colonel, "of course you are. Well, we must be going. Remember me to Dora and to Winchester. You certainly have fine roses."
"Good-bye. Glad you dropped in. Glad to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Boyd. Come again and see me."
She stooped her gaunt frame, raised a leaf, and pounced on what
