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“When Joe Gubbins started digging up ‘is garden people began to think they were all bewitched, and I went round to see Henery Walker to tell ‘im wot a fine chance ‘e’d got, and to remind ‘im that I’d put another ninepence on ‘im the night before. All ‘e said was, ‘More fool you,’ and went on digging a ‘ole in his garden big enough to put a ‘ouse in.

“In a fortnight’s time there wasn’t a garden worth looking at in the place, and it was quite clear there’d be no Flower Show that year, and of all the silly, bad-tempered men in the place them as ‘ad dug up their pretty gardens was the wust.

“It was just a few days before the day fixed for the Flower Show, and I was walking up the road when I see Joe and Henery Walker and one or two more leaning over Bob Pretty’s fence and talking to ‘im. I stopped, too, to see what they were looking at, and found they was watching Bob’s two boys a-weeding of ‘is garden. It was a disgraceful, untidy sort of place, as I said before, with a few marigolds and nasturtiums, and sich-like put in anywhere, and Bob was walking up and down smoking of ‘is pipe and watching ‘is wife hoe atween the plants and cut off dead marigold blooms.

“‘That’s a pretty garden you’ve got there, Bob,’ ses Joe, grinning.

“I’ve seen wuss,’ ses Bob.

“‘Going in for the Flower Show, Bob?’ ses Henery, with a wink at us.

“‘O’ course I am,’ ses Bob ‘olding ‘is’ ead up; ‘my marigolds ought to pull me through,’ he ses.

“Henery wouldn’t believe it at first, but when he saw Bob show ‘is missus ‘ow to pat the path down with the back o’ the spade and hold the nails for ‘er while she nailed a climbing nasturtium to the fence, he went off and fetched Bill Chambers and one or two others, and they all leaned over the fence breathing their ‘ardest and a-saying of all the nasty things to Bob they could think of.

“‘It’s the best-kep’ garden in the place,’ ses Bob. ‘I ain’t afraid o’ your new way o’ cultivating flowers, Bill Chambers. Old-fashioned ways suit me best; I learnt ‘ow to grow flowers from my father.’

“‘You ain’t ‘ad the cheek to give your name in, Bob?’ ses Sam Jones, staring.

“Bob didn’t answer ‘im. Tick those bits o’ grass out o’ the path, old gal,’ he ses to ‘is wife; ‘they look untidy, and untidiness I can’t abear.’

“He walked up and down smoking ‘is pipe and pretending not to notice Henery Walker, wot ‘ad moved farther along the fence, and was staring at some drabble-tailed-looking geraniums as if ‘e’d seen ’em afore but wasn’t quite sure where.

“‘Admiring my geraniums, Henery?’ ses Bob at last.

“‘Where’d you get ’em?’ ses Henery, ‘ardly able to speak.

“‘My florist’s,’ ses Bob, in a off-hand manner.

“‘Your wot? asks Henery.

“‘My florist,’ ses Bob.

“‘And who might ‘e be when ‘e’s at home?’ asked Henery.

“”Tain’t so likely I’m going to tell you that,’ ses Bob. ‘Be reasonable, Henery, and ask yourself whether it’s likely I should tell you ‘is name. Why, I’ve never seen sich fine geraniums afore. I’ve been nursing ’em inside all the summer, and just planted ’em out.’

“‘About two days arter I threw mine over my back fence,’ ses Henery Walker, speaking very slowly.

“‘Ho,’ ses Bob, surprised. ‘I didn’t know you ‘ad any geraniums, Henery. I thought you was digging for gravel this year.’

“Henery didn’t answer ‘im. Not because ‘e didn’t want to, mind you, but because he couldn’t.

“‘That one,’ ses Bob, pointing at a broken geranium with the stem of ‘is pipe, ‘is a “Dook o’ Wellington,” and that white one there is wot I’m going to call “Pretty’s Pride.” That fine marigold over there, wot looks like a sunflower, is called “Golden Dreams.”‘

“‘Come along, Henery,’ ses Bill Chambers, bursting, ‘come and get something to take the taste out of your mouth.’