So they waited and waited, for the aisles were full of people who walked lingeringly while they chatted with their neighbors.
It was no easy trick to get Doodles into his hand-chair, but it was at last accomplished, and the little procession made its slow way up the now almost deserted aisle. It was worth the pains to see the small boy’s delight when he was halted before the waving ferns set with long-stemmed brilliant roses. He had never seen so many together, and he drew breath after breath of their fragrance while his eyes feasted on the novel and beautiful sight.
“Seen enough, old feller?” Blue queried finally.
“Ye—es, I guess so,” was the equivocal answer. He bent nearer the roses for a last whiff of their spicy perfume.
“Here, you kids! let them flowers be!”
The janitor had come up the side aisle, unnoticed by the boys.
“Who’s touchin’ ’em?” cried Blue. “We ain’t!”
“Well, you’d better not!” He cast a suspicious eye over the superb array, but discovered no disorder. “Move on!” he growled. “You’ve hung round here long enough.”
“Come! let’s go!” shivered Doodles under his breath.
“You’d better count ’em!” Blue flung back scornfully to the man who was still hovering over the blossoms with anxiety.