And you
might give him a hint to let us have a flower-pot or two now
and then (I'm sure he takes ours if he finds any of our dead
window-plants lying about), and that he needn't be so mighty
mean about the good earth in the potting-shed, or the labels
either, they're dirt cheap. Mind you write straight. If only
you let John know that the gardens don't entirely belong to
him, you'll see that what's spare from the big garden would
more than set us going; and it shall further encourage him
to accomplish the remainder, who in praying that your
Highnesse may enjoy the heavenly Paradise after the many
years fruition of this earthly,

"Submitteth to be, Your Maiestie's,

"In all humble devotion,

"JOHN PARKINSON,

"King's Apothecary and Herbarist.

"P.S.--It was Mary's idea."

"My _dear_ Arthur!" said I.

"Well, I know it's not very well mixed," said Arthur. "Not half so
well as I intended at first. I meant to write it all in the Parkinson
style. But then, I thought, if I put the part about John in queer
language and old spelling, she mightn't understand what we want. But
every word of the end comes out of the Dedication; I copied it the
other day, and I think she'll find it a puzzlewig when she comes to
it."

After which Arthur folded his paper and put it into an envelope which
he licked copiously, and closed the letter with a great deal of
display. But then his industry coming to an abrupt end, as it often
did, he tossed it to me, saying, "You can address it, Mary;" so I
enclosed it in my own letter to thank Mother for the book, and I fancy
she did write to our gardener, for he gave us a good lot of things,
and was much more good-natured than usual.

After Arthur had tossed his letter to me, he clasped his hands over
his head and walked up and down thinking. I thought he was calculating
what he should be able to get out of John, for when you are planning
about a garden, you seem to have to do so much calculating. Suddenly
he stopped in front of me and threw down his arms. "Mary," he said,
"if Mother were at home, she _would_ despise us for selfishness,
wouldn't she just?"

"I don't think it's selfish to want spare things for our gardens, if
she gives us leave," said I.

"I'm not thinking of that," said Arthur; "and you're not selfish, you
never are; but she would despise me, and Adela, and Harry, because
we've taken your game, and got our parts, and you'