"If you will just tie up that dog, sir," said the agent, "and come
this way, I would like to show you the Meltinagua pear,--dissolves
in the mouth like snow, sir; trees will bear next year."
"Oh, come look at the Royal Sparkling Ruby grape!" cried Euphemia.
"It glows in the sun like a gem."
"Yes," said the agent, "and fills the air with fragrance during the
whole month of September--"
"I tell you," I shouted, "I can't hold this dog another minute!
The chain is cutting the skin off my hands. Run, sir, run! I'm
going to let go!"
"Run! run!" cried Pomona. "Fly for your life!"
The agent now began to be frightened, and shut up his book.
"If you only could see the plates, sir, I'm sure--"
"Are you ready?" I cried, as the dog, excited by Pomona's wild
shouts, made a bolt in his direction.
"Good-day, if I must--" said the agent, as he hurried to the gate.
But there he stopped.
"There is nothing, sir," he said, "that would so improve your place
as a row of the Spitzenberg Sweet-scented Balsam fir along this
fence. I'll sell you three-year-old trees--"
"He's loose!" I shouted, as I dropped the chain.
In a second the agent was on the other side of the gate. Lord
Edward made a dash toward him; but, stopping suddenly, flew back to
the tree of the tramp.
"If you should conclude, sir," said the tree-agent, looking over
the fence, "to have a row of those firs along here--"
"My good sir," said I, "there is no row of firs there now, and the
fence is not very high.
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