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These signs, painted in red, white and blue, bring to mind visions of a huge enterprise, with buildings and offices, and all the other appurtenances of what most of us have come to think of as the usual marks of a "company." However, just the opposite is the case.

You turn a bend in the road and there, on the left, if the season is right, is a quarter of an acre of color. Flowers by the hundreds, by the thousands, greet your eyes. Flowers in all the shades of the spectrum, from white through the various shades of reds and blues and mixtures, and even some of so dark a purple as to appear black. All these flowers have one thing in common—they are all grown from tubers or bulbs.

Through this fairyland of color run little paths, winding in and out among the daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, and tuberous rooted begonias.

On these paths, at any time from spring until fall, you will see, tending the flowers and greeting the customers, three very interesting people in Dutch costume—John Rutchie, his wife, and their daughter, Joy. Back of this magic quarter of an acre, is a small house, built by John Rutchie himself. Next to that is a small greenhouse, also built by Rutchie. And to one side is a trailer in which the Rutchies, after their work is done in the fall, go to Florida. It is a wonderful existence; and it is due entirely to the hard work and ingenuity of John Rutchie.

THE STORY of John Rutchie and his flowering bulbs and tubers sounds almost like fiction.

Rutchie, who emigrated to the United States from Holland in 1934, after working at various jobs around New York City, bought a small hotel on the very road near Tannersville, Pennsylvania, where he now operates the Dutch Bulb Import Company. Of course the idea of sometime being in the business he now is, never entered his mind. His and Mrs. Rutchie's aim was simply to make as good a living as was possible catering to the summer visitors who came to their small hotel.

That was the way things were until 1935 when, as a gift, John Rutchie's relatives sent him thirty tuberous begonias.

"I planted the tubers in front of the hotel," Rutchie recalls, "and facing the road. In July and August of that year, when they bloomed, we began to have a series of odd experiences. Tourists traveling the road began to stop and come into the hotel. That was fine—that was just what we wanted. But most of these tourists stopped merely to inquire if the begonias were for sale."

Of course Rutchie was pleased that the outside of his hotel was attracting attention, but the idea of selling the tubers was simply absurd to him. He had only thirty of them, and besides he didn't have the slightest intention of going into the florist business. However, every year when the begonias bloomed, a fresh crop of tourists stopped with offers to buy them.

That was the way things went on until the start of World War II. Slowly the Rutchies had grown tired of the hotel business. The long hours, the hard work, and, because of the war, the impossibility of getting help—all these things made them decide to sell their small hotel. They still liked the Pocono Mountains, and so when they sold out they kept for themselves a quarter of an acre of land a little distance from the hotel, along the highway.

RUTCHIE, BY himself, built a small house on the quarter acre. Back in Holland his trade had been the repairing of watches, so now, by calling on jewelry stores in the neighboring towns, he was able to create quite a little business, calling for watches at the stores, repairing them, and then delivering them back to the stores. It was a nice comfortable living, and the Rutchies were happy. However, during the early war years the Rutchies did something that caused the wheels of chance to turn, and in time put them into an entirely new business. They began sending food packages to their relatives in Holland.

"These relatives had money," Rutchie explains, "but they weren't able to buy luxuries like coffee and other things, of which there was relative plenty over here. We kept sending these things overseas, and always when they received a package the relatives would write and ask if they couldn't send money in payment. Of course we were, and still are, far from wealthy, but still we didn't want to accept money for the food we sent them. At last the relatives wrote and asked if there wasn't something they could send us from Holland. I understood how they felt—that they were proud, and didn't want to receive what we had been sending them as charity. Mrs. Rutchie and I thought it over and then we wrote and said that if they really felt like sending us something, we would appreciate a few tubers and bulbs."

In less time than it seemed possible for his letter to reach Holland, Rutchie had his answer. The relatives sent him tubers—5,000 of them! And all rooted begonias!

Rutchie, who had expected to receive another thirty or forty, stared at the pile of dried onion-like objects and scratched his head. He simply didn't know what to do with them.

Then he had one of those ideas that, looking back, can only be called sheer inspiration.

The Rutchies' house took up only a small part of the quarter acre—the remainder was virgin mountain land composed of trees and brush. John Rutchie simply cleared away some of the trees and all the brush bordering the highway and planted the tubers. He didn't have a plan then, all he was interested in was to get them into the ground.

That was in the spring. When summer came around that year John Rutchie was in the bulb business.

It didn't happen over night, of course. Summer came, the begonias bloomed, people stopped to gaze at the marvelous sight of 5,000 flowering begonias, and a certain percentage asked if the tubers were for sale. When that question was asked more and more often the Rutchies held a conference and decided there probably was something in this business.

Of course they could have bought excellent bulbs and tubers from the large nurseries in the United States. Any of these will give a wholesale price to someone who is really going into the business, to be a middle-man for tubers and bulbs, or to grow and sell the flowers which they produce. The Rutchies knew that, but their first tubers had come from Holland, and so for sentimental reasons they decided to see what they could do about importing bulbs and tubers for their young business.

THE FIRST step was to write to the relatives in Holland for the names of some bulb growers in that country who would export bulbs to the United States. To their surprise there were many Dutch firms who made a business of doing just that. Of course the Rutchies could have obtained the same information by writing to the Dutch Consul in New York City, or to the Dutch Ambassador in Washington, D.C., or even by writing to the Dutch Government itself, in Holland. When they received the names of the exporters of bulbs, the Rutchies wrote to them immediately and explained what they had in mind. Back came replies saying that not only would these firms be happy to sell bulbs to the Rutchies, but that once each year the larger exporters of Holland sent salesmen all over the world to explain personally all about Dutch bulbs and to help people just like the Rutchies.

That summer salesmen from Holland did call on the Rutchies. They explained; they showed pictures, and in every way possible they were of the greatest assistance in furthering the plan John Rutchie had been thinking about.

The plan was simplicity itself.

On the quarter of an acre tract there would be separate plots, and each plot would be planted with a different kind of flowering bulbs or tubers. There would be plots of tulips, daffodils and hyacinths. These bulbs require a certain degree of sunshine, and therefore their places would be as much in the open as possible. But under the trees and in other shady spots would be planted what the Rutchies loved best of any flower-the tuberous begonia.

Each of the plots or plantings would be separated by carefully tended paths; and each plot would not only have the kind of bulb carefully labeled, but also each variety of every kind would be described.

The order John Rutchie placed with the Dutch salesmen that summer was delivered that fall, and the plan was put into operation. The next spring and summer the customers were able to stroll along the paths, reveling in the sight and smell of the blooming flowers, and they could point out to the Rutchies the exact kind and variety of flower they liked best and wished to order.

That is exactly the way bulbs and tubers are sold at the Dutch Import Company, Tannersville, Pennsylvania. For example: A customer sees a certain type and color of tulip in bloom—not a picture or a description in a folder, but the actual flower itself. He therefore orders that exact bulb from Rutchie. He doesn't order only one bulb, of course. The orders are usually for a dozen or more of a kind. Orders are taken all spring and summer. At the end of summer the Rutchies total the numbers and kinds they have promised, and an order covering that number is sent to the bulb growers in Holland. Rutchie of course orders more than the number actually ordered from him; and this is because he knows from experience that in every shipment to him there is a certain percentage of spoiled bulbs. This is, of course, unavoidable when shipments are made from such a distance, and no matter how much care is taken in packing and transportation, the spoilage always occurs. And that fact is one of the reasons why John Rutchie's business is a success.

Rutchie believes in quality first, last and always. His business is based on the principle that no matter how much spoilage he encounters in shipments to him, the shipments he makes to his customers must have none. This means that each bulb is examined carefully, no matter if the order is for one dozen or twelve dozen. If a customer has ordered a dozen and a half of a certain tulip, the customer will receive exactly that, and with his order the customer will also have the privilege of having any and all questions, pertaining to the planting and care of his bulbs, answered carefully and completely. This personal care and "follow through", with each order is why Rutchie's bulbs cost a little more than those you simply buy from a bin in a hardware store. "But," as John Rutchie says, "if a man or a woman is going to take the time and do the work necessary to plant a garden or a border, certainly a few pennies more for each bulb is good insurance."

THERE WERE many questions I wanted to ask Rutchie about the prices of bulbs, what he paid for them and what he sold them for, but I decided to save those questions until last. What I wanted to know now were the various steps in planting the bulbs, so that a person—either for his own garden or with the ultimate idea of going into the bulb business—would be certain that the time and care expended on planting would result in healthy, beautiful, saleable flowers.

"Let's start with tulips," Rutchie said, "They are—at least to a great many people—the most colorful of the flower blooming bulbs. The only thing against them is that they bloom only once a year. Of course that one blooming is marvelous, especially if you have used a little foresight and planning in planting the bulbs. For example, a planting of solid red ones against a green background would be more striking than red flowers against a red brick building. I know that sounds like a mistake that couldn't happen. But I've seen it, time and again."

We walked along the paths that bordered his tulip beds while he pointed out things that cannot always be found in books—things that come only with years of experience.

"Don't forget," he told me, "that each tulip contains an embryo flower, but to release that flower in all of its splendor is something that depends solely on the planter."

Rutchie tells his customers to keep thinking of their tulip beds all during the summer. By that he means that they should try to estimate then how many kinds and types of bulbs they will need in the fall, and where they will plant them. And—most important—to order them early. In this way, he assures them, they will be certain that their order will be selected from the pick of the crop, and that they will be reasonably sure to obtain the varieties they want.

When their order arrives, he cautions them, if it is too early for planting, they should never leave them packed. They should open the bundles and spread the bulbs (being careful not to damage them) on sheets of paper or cardboard in the garage, or any other building that can be opened to the air.

THE RULES for planting tulips so that you get the most from each bulb, are neither many nor difficult to follow. They should be planted before the ground is hardened by frost; that is, from October 1 until the end of November. The bulbs should be planted from five to six inches apart. Some gardeners dig up the entire area to be planted, loosening the soil, and then allowing a few days to pass before actually planting the bulbs. Another way, if a definite area is to be planted solidly with tulips, is to dig up and remove the top soil to a depth of eight or ten inches over the whole area. The bulbs are then set at a distance of five or six inches from one another, and the topsoil is sifted around them.

During the winter months, however, this looseness of the soil around the bulbs presents a problem. If mulch is spread on the bed, mice and moles find it easy to get under it and reach the bulbs through the loose soil. Therefore, if you think the winter will be severe enough to make mulching necessary, wait until the ground is frozen solid before spreading a covering over it.

"The only thing you have to be careful of," Rutchie said, "is to be certain that from late March until the bulbs flower that they have enough water. I know that with all the showers and the normal rainfall in other spring months people sometimes think that only in the summer is it dry enough to use a sprinkler or some other form of watering; but tulips—in fact almost all types of bulbs—thrive when it is moist. So be sure they get plenty to drink."

I asked him what he did with the tulips after they had finished blooming.

"That depends on one very important thing," Rutchie explained. "Are you talking about an ordinary garden, or about a business such as the one I'm running? If you have tulips in your own garden and you want them to last as long as possible, then you 'lift' them when they have finished blooming. On the other hand, if as in my case, bulbs are your business, and you use the same plots for other plantings, like tuberous begonias, then you simply leave the tulips, daffodils and hyacinths in the ground. These spring bulbs—tulips, daffodils and hyacinths—are set quite deep (five or six inches) while begonias are set just under the surface of the topsoil. Therefore the begonias can find food and grow above the others without disturbing them. Of course, the bulbs you leave in the ground will not last as long as those you lift, but in the bulb business when you must make a choice between the time and labor it takes to remove bulbs, against letting them remain in the ground and accepting a certain percentage of mortality, it usually pays to leave them in.

"In case you go into this business, or you simply intend having spring bulbs for your garden, perhaps I should tell you the procedure I follow when I do lift bulbs, or what I tell my customers when they ask me about lifting bulbs.

"I first of all remove the flowers from the stems before the petals fall. Then, no later than June, I lift the bulbs—being careful not to break the stems. I line them out in a shallow furrow and cover them lightly with soil. In about a month the leaves disappear and I lift the bulbs again and spread them out in a shady place to dry. When they have dried I clean them and store them in a dry and airy place for the remainder of the summer. In the fall I plant them again. I figure that if bulbs are taken care of in this way they will give you excellent results for from five to eight years."

AS WE strolled along the paths I mentioned to Rutchie that it was a pity tulips bloomed only once a year.

"But," he said, "if you are careful in your selection and plantings you can enjoy these beautiful flowers for nearly two months out of the year. There are enough kinds and varieties of tulips so that, by planning, you can have them blooming from early April until late May."

As we walked along Rutchie pointed out some varieties of tulips that he liked best. One was Tulipa Kaufmannina, a water lily type of tulip that blooms in early April. There are many hybrids of this particular bulb—some in yellow with red borders, and some entirely red or yellow. My personal choice were the brilliant red tulips, usually Fasteriana, Red Emperor or Princeps.

Some of Rutchie's tulips are planted in borders, but most of them are in solid plantings. However, to his customers he is a fountain of advice and counsel as to where tulips look best in the garden. After a winter of drabness, he says, tulips always look colorful around garden gates, steps, or bordering a terrace. Rutchie's advice is to select types whose height, color and time of blooming will make the best show. For example: scarlet Triumphs planted with white Cottage; or lavender Darwins with salmon-pink Darwins; or soft black Darwins with scarlet Darwins. There are infinite varieties, and it takes only some imagination on the part of the planter to make an ordinary garden breathtakingly beautiful. One good rule is to be certain to display light colored varieties against dark green backgrounds; while brilliant colors are better against light backgrounds. But all over the garden, in unexpected spots, tulips can be used to place emphasis on other plantings, just as a painter employs daubs of bright color to accentuate portions of a picture he is painting.

The path we were on made a sharp bend and suddenly in front of us were solid plantings of daffodils and hyacinths. The sight was so beautiful that, involuntarily, I stopped.

"It's quite a picture—right?" The pride of accomplishment was on John Rutchie's face as he gazed at what he had made.

"Things I've said about tulips," he went on, "apply equally to daffodils and hyacinths. You can use the same method of planting with all of them. Also you can lift the bulbs the same way you can with tulips. Some people think there are no things more beautiful than spring flowers grown from bulbs. To me, of course, all flowers are beautiful—especially those grown from bulbs. But, like everyone else, I have my favorite—and that is the begonia.

"Understand, this business or a similar one could be conducted with only the spring bulbs, and it would be profitable. If I weren't so very interested in begonias I could and would devote more time to selling spring bulbs. And not just the bulbs, but potted plants grown from those bulbs. An excellent business could be worked up doing just that. But maybe because I'm sentimental about begonias—don't forget they were the first flowers I planted—and maybe because I really believe they are the loveliest of flowers, begonias are what I'm most interested in.

"I sincerely believe that if anyone wanted to start a business like mine, begonias are what he should concentrate on more than any other bulb or tuber. The reason is simple—few people raise them. A great many people have the idea that they are difficult to grow. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I believe that anything worth doing at all is worth the time and trouble to really study and think about. And if you think about this bulb business very long, you most certainly arrive at the conclusion that the things to grow are those very things that others aren't growing. To me that means only one thing—begonias. If anyone has been held back from growing begonias for profit because he or she believes they are difficult to grow—if those people will follow my procedure in raising them they will be amazed at the certainty and beauty of the results."

WE TURNED and strolled toward the small greenhouse Rutchie had constructed near his home. The door was open (it was May) and I noticed that inside, on tables, and outside on the ground were flats or cold frames. Those inside were shaded by the walls of the greenhouse, while those outside were in the shade of trees or in the shade of the outside walls of the greenhouse.

In all the flats green shoots about two to three inches high were evident.

Rutchie pointed to them. "Those are my tuberous begonias. I started them in these flats along toward the end of March. And now they are just about ready to be planted in the plots. I'd like to explain to you the procedure I follow in raising begonias—and then I want you to promise me one thing."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I want you to come back here about the middle of August and see the results of what I'm going to tell you. I think you'll be surprised."

I promised readily.

We bent over one of the cold frames and he began to explain how he started the tubers.

"Any time onward from the beginning of March," Rutchie said, "I set the tubers in these boxes. As you can see, the flats are shallow. I fill them just about half-full with a mixture of peat moss and leaf mold. Then I put the tubers on top of this soil, about two inches apart, and then fill the box—until the tubers are barely covered—with more of the same mixture. Next I put the boxes in my greenhouse. There is no heat in there and it's cool. But before I built the greenhouse I simply put the flats on the floor of the garage. Any place will do so long as it's cool—not freezing cold—and airy.

"Although begonias need plenty of water when they are sturdy plants, in the beginning I only keep the soil uniformly moist. When the shoots are nearly three inches high—just about the way they are now—I begin watering them more and more. Always remember with begonias that the slower they grow in the beginning, the stronger the resulting plant will be.

"Around the beginning of May most of the plants will begin to have buds; but I suggest that before they open you should pinch them off. This will have the effect of making the next buds stronger, and this strength will show up later in the summer when the heat begins pouring down on them.

"Begonias are surface feeders. That is their roots spread out horizontally instead of going deep into the ground. For this reason—as I believe I mentioned before—I plant my begonias right over my tulips and other spring bulbs. Remember, I said before, too, that it would be better to raise or lift the spring bulbs in order to prolong their activity. But in my case, where I would rather put the time it would take to lift them to some other use, I leave them in the ground and accept the percentage of mortality which occurs every year."

WE MOVED to a bench and sat down.

"But for those gardeners who might want to raise only begonias," Rutchie said, "and I'm certain a profitable hobby could be started by doing only that, I'd like to explain the type of soil begonias seem to like best of all, and how to prepare it.

"Because they are surface tubers it simply isn't important what kind of soil you have as a base. It can be made up of rocks or clay or anything else. Select a shady place, or a place that can be made shady, and spread on this space a prepared top soil, made up of equal portions of leaf mold and barnyard manure. Then to this mixture add some peat moss and some ordinary building sand and mix thoroughly. Spread this soil—to a depth of about six inches—over the space you have reserved for the begonias. Set the tubers in this mixture about six inches apart and barely cover them with more of the soil. That's all there is to it! You can, therefore, plant them anywhere! Now do you see why I like begonias?"

A cloudy day is a good time to transplant the young plants from the cold frames to the garden, according to Rutchie. After they are transplanted, water them thoroughly so that the soil will settle around the white, fibrous roots. Water them three or four times a day thereafter, using a fine spray on the foliage. In several days the plants will be acclimated to their new home. After this period a moderate watering should be done, depending on the amount of rainfall, but care should be taken to keep the ground moist.

If at all possible a mulch should be put on the plants no later than the first of July. This should consist of peat moss and a fertilizer like sheep manure. A good mixture would be one part of peat to ten parts of fertilizer. This should be put on the plants about an inch thick.

Hot weather of summer is when the plants need all the help they can get. The mulch has kept the weeds down and, therefore, has allowed. the plants to grow thickly. During dry, hot spells when there isn't much humidity, it will be necessary to water the plants about three times daily, especially taking care that the foliage is kept well moistened. The reason for stressing the importance of keeping the leaves of the begonias wet is because it is the foliage of these plants that nourishes the flowers, and not, as is the case with other bulbs, the roots.

A hose with a fine spray is excellent to use in watering begonias. But if, like Rutchie, you make bulbs your business, you might contrive some other method. In Rutchie's case he has constructed a series of perforated pipes about eight feet off the ground. These are connected to a water tap, and when he turns it on, all the plots get a thorough wetting.

If these simple rules are followed, Rutchie asserts, anyone can have sturdy, strong plants that will bear flowers all summer and well into fall.

"But having solid plantings of begonias from which my customers can select the tubers they order from me, is only part of the begonia business," Rutchie told me.

"Most of the profit I derive from begonias," he went on, "comes from selling them as potted plants. They are the only flowers I sell that way. All bulbs, of course, can be sold in pots as flowering plants. But I do that only with begonias, for the very good reason that few gardeners do it.

"Sometimes I start the tubers in pots, and other times I let them get a good start in the planting plots before lifting them to pots. But either way is easy to do, and it's a profitable side of the business."

RUTCHIE DOES something else that is greatly appreciated by his customers. Whether he sells the begonias as tubers or as potted plants, he gives each customer a card on which he has had printed, plainly and simply, the few rules for growing these beautiful flowers. The rules may be few and simple to follow, but they are important.

"I remember," he said, "two sisters who stopped and bought tubers from me. Each lived in a different section of the same town. A year later they were back to see me. The tubers planted by one of the sisters had never bloomed, while the other sister raved about how beautiful the begonias had made her garden. When I questioned them I discovered that my suspicions were verified. One sister had obeyed the instructions on the card to the letter. While the other sister had simply dug holes, put in the tubers and let nature take its course. That summer nature had elected to have a long, dry hot spell, and the begonias—getting no help—had died. Stories like that give many people the impression that begonias are hard to grow."

Begonias will bloom all summer, but when fall arrives and frost kills the flowers, it's time for the tubers to take their winter rest.

The best way to lift begonias is to break off the entire stem, about three inches above the soil. Then lift the tubers—being careful to let the roots hold all the soil they can—and put them in a cool, dry place. Let them stay there about two months, or until the soil and roots have dried. Then, after removing the dried soil and dead roots, clean each tuber with a cloth or brush and put them in a dry but cool place for their winter's nap.

All these things I learned from Rutchie that day in May when he showed me the cold frames where the tiny shoots of the begonia plants had just shoved their green heads through the lightly packed soil. I left him then, renewing my promise to return in August to discover what had happened to them.

DURING THE next few months I thought often of John Rutchie and his bulbs. Week after week passed and I still put off visiting him. And then one day I received a card. "Now's the time!" it said.

The next day I rode again along the black-top road near Tannersville, Pennsylvania. I was expecting to see something beautiful, of course, when I arrived at the Rutchies', but nothing I had anticipated prepared me for the actual realization. Once more I turned the bend in the road and there before me was the Dutch Bulb Import Company. But this time I would hardly have recognized it. Gone were the tulips and daffodils and hyacinths, and in their places were blooming begonias of every shade and hue of the rainbow. Begonias were rearing their beautiful flowers, in the planting plots; begonias hung in baskets and pots strung like Japanese lanterns between the huge trees; begonias were in boxes and vases, and in every other conceivable object that would hold them. Begonias were everywhere!

Once more John Rutchie and his family came to greet me with beaming smiles; and once more I walked with them along the tiny paths.

"Was I wrong?" John Rutchie asked. "Did I exaggerate?"

All I could do was to shake my head and stare around me in amazement. For quite a while we strolled among the colorful flowers, then slowly we went back to the house, and, on the porch from where we could see over the plots, John Rutchie and I sat down.

I had the story of this man who had made bulbs and tubers his business, and now I felt was the time to come to actualities. I asked him about the procedure of importing the tubers and bulbs.

"It's very simple," Rutchie answered. "To be more exact let's say I found it to be simple. My suggestion to anyone who wanted to import bulbs from Holland in some sort of quantity for resale, would be to do just as I mentioned earlier—write to The Agricultural Department of The Netherlands Government, The Hague, The Netherlands. Or you could write to the Dutch Ambassador in Washington which should be addressed The Netherlands Embassy, Washington, D.C.

"My bulbs are sent to me through a custom broker in New York City," Rutchie went on. "There are many brokers just as there are many exporters. But whichever exporter you deal with will have his own custom broker. This custom broker, for a small fee, assumes all the responsibilities of importing the bulbs for you. The bulbs you order are shipped direct to the custom broker from Holland. He sees to the duties, customs, and all other matters pertaining to the importing of the bulbs—things like ocean freight, and ocean insurance and when everything has cleared and the bulbs are in New York waiting for you, he lets you know and you can come for them or he will send them to you. All these things he does for such a small fee that, added to the cost of each bulb, it is nothing.

"Now, of course, you can go into a business like mine without importing the bulbs. There are many, many wholesale flower-growers—excellent ones—in this country who will probably give you the same help as I received from the growers of Holland. My suggestion would be, if you become really interested in the bulb business, to go and visit some of your large local growers or dealers and talk over your plans with them. You may find even a better and easier way of starting than I did. But before I did anything at all, I would certainly investigate the possibilities of obtaining bulbs locally. I would suggest that you write to the United States Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C., telling them what you want to do and asking their advice."

"HOW ABOUT prices, Mr. Rutchie?" I asked. "I mean what do they cost you, and what do you sell them for?"

"Well," Rutchie said, "let's take tulips for example. The cost of them depends of course, on the various varieties. Some tulip bulbs—in fact some bulbs of all flowers—are as valuable as jewels. But I'm not concerned with those rare, rare bulbs, I'm only interested in the ordinary ones. So, roughly, I pay from $35 to $50 per thousand for my bulbs. Of course when I receive them—just as I told you before—I go over each one carefully, and reject the poor ones. Those that are left I sell at from $1.40 a dozen to $10 a dozen. Now take daffodils for example. These cost me from $40 a thousand to $100 a thousand. After sorting I sell them for from $1.60 to $2.50 a dozen."

"Now let me get this straight," I said. "These bulbs you're talking about—the ones you import from Holland—are ordered by you to fill other orders placed with you during the summer by people who stop and see your samples growing right here."

"That's right. People order from growing samples. At the end of the summer I total up the number of each variety ordered from me, and I in turn place an order for those bulbs. With daffodils, hyacinths and tulips, I sell only the bulbs. But, as I pointed out to you earlier, a very good business can be done by selling them as grown plants. However, the only flower I sell—as plants as well as tubers—are the begonias."

"How do the prices range on those?" I asked.

"Begonias are more costly than the others," Rutchie explained. "I pay on an average of twenty-five cents a tuber for them. Of course as with other flowers there are some types of begonias that are literally almost worth their weight in gold. But I prefer to stay with the kind that costs me—everything included—about twenty-five cents a tuber. These I sort even more carefully than I do the other types of bulbs, and I sell the perfect ones for seventy-five cents each or $7.50 a dozen. These tubers are guaranteed, you understand; they are the pick of the crop. However, as you can see"—and he waved his hand at the hundreds of flowering begonias in pots and boxes—"I sell a great many begonias as blooming plants. For these plants I charge from $2.50 to $5 each."

WE SAT for a while and looked down over the beautiful flowers. Then I arose to go. Rutchie walked to the car with me.

As I was ready to drive away I asked him what I suppose to him was a foolish question.

"Are you happy in this business, Mr. Rutchie? I mean, is there anything else you'd rather be doing?"

For a moment he didn't answer. The light breeze stirred his white hair as he turned and looked at his wife and daughter as they moved among the beautiful flowers.

Then he turned to me.

"'Growing these things," he said, smiling, "has given me a satisfaction I've never known before. Looking back over my life I know that I always had a yearning to do just what I'm doing now. It's a good business. And it's a good life."