He uncovered and in his suavest tones inquired if a brunette young woman lived there and if she would like a nosegay of yellow violets.
"Well bless my soul!" cried she.

"What is this world coming to?
Do you mean to tell me that there are now able-bodied men offering at our doors, flowers to match our girls' complexions ?" "Yes madam ?" said the Harvester gravely, "and also selling them as fast as he can show them, at prices that make a profit very well worth while.
I had an equal number of blue and white, but I see the dark girls are very much in the minority.

The others were gone long ago, and I now have flowers to offer brunettes only." "Well forever more! And you don't call that fiddlin' business for a big, healthy, young man ?" The Harvester's gay laugh was infectious.
"I do not," he said.

"I have to start as soon as I can see, tramp long distances in wet woods and gather the violets on my knees, make them into bunches, and bring them here in water to keep them fresh.

I have another occupation.