lat.

Then, a splendid idea! And he made up his mind instantly that he would
carry it out, so on he started, though more slowly than before. His new
plan was this: He would walk, and walk, and walk, enjoying the buds all
the while, their delicate fragrance, the silken touch of their petals
against his chin. As he walked, he would not look at any one--just at
the scenery; so that when he returned home he could truthfully say that
he had seen no one even so much as look at the roses. No matter what any
stranger might say to him, he would not stop, and then he could declare
that nobody had stopped him. Also, should a lady or gentleman hail him,
asking to buy, he would not answer, and so he would be able to say that
he had not refused to sell.

He would stay out till it was late--till it was dark, and the three at
home were grown anxious. Then when he felt sure that Grandpa was abed,
back he would go, taking the roses to Cis. He would enter the flat
"staggerin', like I can hardly stand up." And mourn over his ill-luck as
a salesman. And if he had to take a whipping, "Well, I'll yell as hard's
I can" (everybody's window was open these soft June nights) "even if I
scare Grandpa a little, and I'll make Big Tom quit quick. And anyhow I'd
feel awful for a long time if I done what _he_ wants me to, but a
lickin', why, it don't last."

He felt a return of pride and self-respect. On he rambled, looking at
the scenery, and particularly at the higher portions of it, this so as
to avoid the eyes of passing people. Luckily for his peace of mind, he
did not know that cut flowers need water, or that they would wilt, and
be less fresh and beautiful than they were now. So, considering the
circumstances, his thoughts were cheerful, for while the coming evening
might bring him trouble and tears, the future not so immediate promised
praise and love and a clear conscience. "By mornin'--by this time
t'-morrow, the hurt'll be over," he reflected, and then without regrets
he could go in and look at Mr. Roosevelt, could face Aladdin, too, and
Galahad, Jim Hawkins, Mr. Lincoln, Daniel Boone and all his other
friends. (He had not read and studied that chapter on Chivalry without
results!)

Every one stared at the strange little figure in the big, ragged clothes
with a sumptuous bouquet of pink rosebuds held so high against his
breast, under his folded arms, that only his tousled hair and his gray
eyes showed. Some were curious, and swung round a