dopt when they
long to say something sharp and cutting, but are too high-minded to
allow themselves to do so. Then he pushed his cap back from his head,
whistled three bars of a popular tune, and said politely:

"There are some pink peonies coming out in the drive. Better come along
and see them."

"Robert Darcy, I will--not--be--patronised!" cried Peggy, flashing
indignant eyes upon him from the altitude of his highest waistcoat
button. "Don't pink peony me, if you please! If it comes to a matter
of taste, I prefer my own to yours. You have an interesting museum,
sir, but, allow me to tell you, a most inadequate garden!"

Then Rob was obliged to laugh, and in that laugh lost the last trace of
vexation.

"Sorry, Peg! I'm a crusty beggar, but it's your own fault if I expected
too much. You were always so patient with my hobbies that I thought you
would be interested in this too. I'll do penance for baring you by
helping to arrange your garden in the way you _do_ like. We'll draw out
our plans together, or rather you shall give the orders, and I'll do the
work. Any leading ideas to offer?"

"Harmony of colour, and sequence of effect. A constant succession of
flowers, assorted as to size, and forming agreeable contrasts to their
neighbours. No red and magentas next door to each other in _my_ garden,
thank you! Order in disorder, and every season well represented!"

"I see," said Rob gravely. "It's an admirable idea, Mariquita,
admirable! We'll set to work at once. By means of digging up
everything that is in the beds at present, working diligently, and
waiting until you are old and grey-headed, there is no reason why you
should not attain your ambition in the course of the next twenty years!"

But Peggy had no intention of waiting twenty years, or twenty months
either. Immediate effect was what she demanded, and she said as much to
Rob, and repeated the words with much emphasis, backing into a bed as
she spoke, and trampling some cherished seedlings to pieces with her
sharp little heels, whereupon Rob hastily called her attention in an
opposite direction, and promised meekly to further her desire.

Not for worlds would she have acknowledged the fact to another, but as
Peggy stood this afternoon surveying the empty beds before her, sundry
prickings of conscience began to rise, lest perchance she had been too
hasty in her decision to have naught to say to bedding-out plants.
Something must be done,