Another year has passed—a busy and prosperous year for the firm of “Dykes & Delano, Florists.” Miss Galway, the modiste, still continued to dispose of the small bouquets, and for two years, finding the supply constant and the demand certain, she had devoted one of her windows exclusively to them, furnished it with a little fountain, and given it into the hands of the little girl, her sister, who sold a part of Susie’s first installment on the Common. On the promise of Miss Galway to devote the whole proceeds of this window to the education of the little girl, our florists had agreed to continue the supply two years more, though they now had their own showroom and order department in the city, conducted by Annie, now Mrs. Storrs, assisted by another woman as book-keeper; for the firm of Dykes & Delano were “sworn,” as the doctor declared, to never employ a man when a woman could be found to do the work required. The conservatory had been extended and supplied with new heating apparatus. The wedding of Annie and George had taken place as the doctor predicted, and Min had a lion’s share of the wedding-cake, having munched it at intervals for a month after the event. She was now nearly five and a half years old, for it was April, and somewhat more than a year since Annie found her new and better world through the good and great heart of Dr. Forest. George had kept his promise to the doctor, to enter the lists as the champion of women, and under the influence of his reading and the society of Annie’s friends, he had greatly improved. His secret ambition was to become an author; and though he continued to gain his bread as a compositor, and was expert in the art, he spent all his spare time writing or studying. Annie proved in every way a treasure to him, and had implicit faith in his success. She wrote every week to “Madame Susie,” as she called her, or to Clara, giving the most careful and minute account of the progress of her wing of the business. Orders came in constantly, after the first six months; and although the firm had opened business relations with a great English nursery establishment in another part of the State, which supplied them with young shade-trees, shrubs, and evergreens from rare foreign invoices, they could hardly supply the demand. Ten acres of Minnie’s legacy from Mrs. Buzzell had been put in order as a nursery, and the propagation of shrubs and trees was progressing finely. Clara and Susie became more and more enterprising and ambitious. The taste in Oakdale and neighboring towns for lawn and park cultivation, was rapidly increasing, and the young firm looked forward to getting their supplies directly from England, instead of receiving them at second hand. One man was now constantly employed in the nursery, and other help indoors and out, when the busier part of the season demanded more hands.
One morning, as Clara was busy in the conservatory, Susie brought her the card of a gentleman who was waiting in the sitting-room.
“Frauenstein?” said Clara, looking at the card, on which was written, in pencil underneath the name, “sends his compliments to Mrs. Delano and her partner, and would esteem it a favor to be admitted into her conservatories.”
“Bring him in, Susie. I cannot present myself in the drawing-room in this rig. Don’t you think I shall make an impression on his countship?” she asked, glancing at her looped-up dress and bibbed apron.
“Why not? You are beautiful in any dress.”
“You wicked little flatterer! Well, send in his Exalted Highness, the Count Von Frauenstein.”
Before Clara had scarcely glanced at the face of the count, she was strongly impressed with the distinguished air of the man. He wore a dark-blue circular, reaching nearly to the knee, and as he stepped through the folding-doors into the broad, central passage in the conservatory, he removed a very elegant shaped hat of soft felt, and seeing Clara, bowed silently, with a simple, courtly air, seldom attained except by men of the Continent. Clara returned the salute, but remembering the European custom, did not offer him her hand.
“Madam,” he said, “I have had several glimpses of your flowers from the outside, and I greatly desire to have a better view, if you will pardon my presumption.”
“I am very glad to see you, sir,” Clara replied. “My father has often spoken of you, for he is one of your ardent admirers.”
“He flatters me greatly. I am proud of his good opinion, for it is worth more than that of other men.”