"Oh, would you think a lovely lady like that would marry a man with red
hair?" said Polly.
"P'raps she liked red hair," Rose said, "and Polly, did you ever see
anything so cunning as that picture of a little girl with her hands full
of roses?"
Polly thought the picture charming, and together they walked around the
little room enjoying flower studies, sketches, and finished pictures of
children, until Polly espied a small door.
"Oh, see that funny little door!" she whispered, "where does that lead
to? Is it a closet door, do you suppose?"
"Oh, no, that's not a closet," Rose replied, "I've often seen it open.
Just outside it is a wee little garden just big enough to hold some fine
holly-hocks. I'll show you. 'Most always the door is open."
"Open it softly. He wouldn't like it if we made a noise," whispered
Polly.
Rose turned the latch very gently, and opened the door a few inches. A
flood of golden sunlight swept in, and just outside the tall holly-hocks
in gorgeous coloring swayed in the soft breeze.
"Hear them rustle just as if they were paper flowers," whispered Polly.
"Oh, it's lovely out there."
"Let's go out just a little way."
"All right," agreed Rose, "come out, and I'll shut the door," and Polly
followed her out into the sunlight.
"Oh, you didn't latch the door," said Polly.
"Oh, dear! I meant to," said Rose, "but it isn't MUCH open. If I go
back, and pull it real hard to make it latch it'll make a noise, and Mr.
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