could on Sir Scraggo, and bent farther and
farther toward the south, stretching her arms out as if imploring her
heartless lover to stay with her. I fastened her back to the wall once
with strips of list, for she was spoiling her figure by stooping so
much; but she looked so utterly miserable that I took them off again.
Dear Eglantine! I wonder if she misses me."

"I think she was rather a minx, do you know?" said Hildegarde. "I
prefer Sir Scraggo myself."

"Well," replied Rose, "one respected Sir Scraggo very much indeed; but
he was _not_ beautiful, and all the De Cedars are pretty stiff and
formal. Then you must remember he was older than Eglantine and I,--ever
and ever so much older."

"That does make a difference," said Hildegarde. "Who were some other of
your garden people, you funniest Rose?"

"There was Old Moneybags!" replied Rose. "How I did detest that old man!
He was a hideous old thorny cactus, all covered with warts and knobs and
sharp spines. Dear mother was very proud of him, and she was always
hoping he would blossom, but he never did. He lived in the house in
winter, but in spring Mother set him out in the flower-bed, just beside
the double buttercup. So when the buttercup blossomed, with its lovely
yellow balls, I played that Old Moneybags, who was an odious old miser,
was counting his gold. Then, when the petals dropped, he piled his money
in little heaps, and finally he buried it. He wasn't very interesting,
Old Moneybags, but the buttercups were lovely. Then there were Larry
Larkspur and Miss Poppy. I wonder--No! I don't believe you would."

"What I like about your remarks," said Hildegarde, "is that they are so
clear. What do you mean by believing I wouldn't? I tell you I would!"

"Well," said Rose, laughing and blushing, "it really isn't anything;
only--well, I made a little rhyme about Larry Larkspur and Miss Poppy
one summer. I thought of it just now; and first I wondered if it would
amuse you, and then I decided it wouldn't."

"_You_ decided, forsooth!" cried Hildegarde. "'"Who are you?" said the
caterpillar.' I will hear about Larry Larkspur, if you please, without
more delay."

"It really _isn't_ worth hearing!" said Rose. "Still, if you want it you
shall have it; so listen!

"Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,
Wears a cap of purple gay;
Trim and handy little dandy,
Straight and smirk he stands alway.

"Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,