Mrs. Mattox was cleaning mud from her shoes.
“We should not stand here,” her husband said. “Peter Van Der Lann may return at any moment, or his little girl.”
“Let them,” said the wife. “At any rate, it was your idea to visit his fields to see what the stubborn Dutchman is raising. Now that you have looked under the box are you satisfied?”
“The tulip is superior to anything that we can enter in the show.”
“I don’t agree,” Mrs. Mattox replied. “Our own flower the cherry-rose candy stick tulip is its equal. We will win the prize, Joseph.”
“Don’t count on it,” Mr. Mattox said gloomily.
“We won’t need to win the blue ribbon to have a profitable business. We have valuable customers. Mrs. Gabriel—”
“How many times must I ask you not to mention her name?” Mr. Mattox broke in angrily. “I wish I had never seen her—she may yet be the cause of me going to jail.”
“Jail?” his wife echoed. “Joseph, I fail to understand you. When Mrs. Gabriel first came to talk to you, why you said we would make a mint of money. Didn’t she give you a large order of bulbs to be imported from Holland?”
“Yes, and I wish she hadn’t! Don’t forget that woman went first to Peter Van Der Lann with her proposition. He must suspect what is going on. If he should turn me in we both might be jailed.”