He was so proud when he heard that the first prize for a dwarf red rose had been awarded to James Deane of Barnstaple.

My dear old dad! He was a good, good man--he was indeed! He loved the flowers--he used to say that they thought and dreamed and hoped, just as we do--and that they had their wishes and loves and ambitions just as we have.

He had a very good business once in Barnstaple, and every one respected him, but somehow he could not keep up with the demands for new things--'social sensations in the way of flowers,' he used to call them, and he failed at last, through no fault of his own.

We sold all we had to pay the creditors, and then we came away from Barnstaple into Somerset, and took this cottage.

Father did a little business in the village, and for some of the big houses round about,--not much, of course--but I was always handy with my needle, and by degrees I got a number of customers for lace-mending and getting up ladies' fine lawn and muslin gowns.