"Cross your fingers quickly, James, and touch wood. Look here, I'll be out in a minute and give you some orders, but I'm very busy just now."
"Thought praps you'd like to know there's eleven crocuses in the front garden."
"Then send them away—we've got nothing for them."
"Crocuses," shouted James.
I jumped up eagerly, and climbed through the window.
"My dear man," I said, shaking him warmly by the hand, "this is indeed a day. Crocuses! And in the front gar—on the south lawn! Let us go and gaze at them."
There they were—eleven of them. Six golden ones, four white, and a little mauve chap.
"This is a triumph for you, James. It's wonderful. Has anything like this ever happened to you before?"
"There'll be some more up to-morrow, I won't say as not."
"Those really are growing, are they? You haven't been pushing them in from the top? They were actually born on the estate?"