Then I was seized with a thought.
I ran down to the kitchen.
I borrowed an old scrubbing bucket.
“Such a soft antique hue!” I exclaimed with delight.
I elected one imperial rose and one little one for a “retainer.”
I fixed them in the bucket.
I thought it was verily the simplicity of the illustrious Mr. Rikiu.
I presented the rest of the roses to Mrs. Schuyler, Jr.
She stared at the bucket without a word. I knew that her silence was the most forcible irony. She didn’t approve of setting such a bucket on the table.
“Meriken jins don’t know any art!” I said, when she left.