"White roses!" he repeated. "What white roses?"
"The big ones," said Mollie. "I don't know their name."
"Don't know their name!" exclaimed Mr. Hobbs in a withering tone. "That's a nice thing to acknowledge! What is your brain for unless you learn the names of things? The big white rose is a Frau Karl Druschki, and don't you forget it. But you are a good girl to come and tell me about the weed. What weed was it now?"
"It was a dandelion," said Mollie promptly.
But as we went away she confided to me that she only hoped it was a dandelion.[16] "I don't know anything about flowers," she said, "and don't want to. I shan't have to bother about all that sort of thing until I get older, and have to have a garden of my own."
"Haven't you got a garden of your own?" I asked her.
She looked at me with eyes full of surprise. "Why, I'm only twelve," she said.
Something in her expression, and the memory of Miriam's look when I had mentioned the garden, warned me not to pursue the subject. There was some mystery here—it would almost seem some mystery of sex. I must reserve my enquiries for Edward.
We came to a large pool in the lower part of the garden. It was bordered with irises and reeds and other water-loving plants.