"Don't be giving me that blarney!" Bridget said. "You need only look out the window to know we've solved nothing at all. And you sitting here crowing to yourself! You've been breeding plague-resistant plants, that's what you've done, and keeping them all to yourself! It's a disgrace!"
Patch began to laugh, and the more he laughed, the angrier Bridget got.
"You should be ashamed!" she shouted. "The whole planet dying and you sitting here growing greener all the time!"
"And that's the way it's been," he assured her. "This place was dying on me, too. But only the last few days it's taken a new lease and I'm at my wit's end to explain it."
"You mean you don't want to explain it. You're hoarding the secret, and it's a shameful thing!"
"Woman, you're crazy!" he bellowed at her. "I'm no magician to breed a plague-resistant plant overnight. It takes patience and many seasons, and I've only just settled in. I put a few things in the garden and stirred things up in the potting shed. Here, come along—you can see for yourself."
He drew her through the cottage, pointing out the advantages of the kitchen so near the greenhouse. She walked about the paths and felt of the rich brown soil without a streak of yellow, and finally her eyes fell upon some little low leaves by the back step.
"Patch," she demanded, "what's that?"
"You've the eagle eye, to be sure. What do you suppose it is?"