"Yes," I said. "At least, I've two beds and a border. The beds are
shaped like an R and a D. But I haven't touched them since I was ill.
The gardener tidied them up when I was at Oakford, and I think he has
dug up all my plants. At least I couldn't find the Bachelor's Button,
nor the London Pride, nor the Pansies, and I saw the Lavender-bush on
the rubbish-heap."
"So they do--so they always do!" said the parson, excitedly. "The only
way is to keep in the garden with them, and let nothing go into the
wheelbarrow but what you see.--Jones! you may go to your dinner. I
watch Jones like a dragon, but he sweeps up a tap-root now and then,
all the same; and yet he's better than most of them. Some flowers are
especially apt to take leave of one's beds and borders," Mr. Andrewes
went on. He was talking to himself rather than to me by this time.
"Fraxinellas, double-grey primroses, ay, and the pink and white ones
too. And hepaticas, red, blue, and white."
"What are hepaticas like?" I asked.
"Let me show you," said Mr. Andrewes, crossing the garden. "Look here!
there are the pretty little things. I have seen them growing wild in
Canada--single ones, that is.
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