"If I've been over hasty, ma'am—"
"Not at all," she interrupted. "There now! I put things so clumsily at times! I meant to excuse myself; for, you see, the house has been yours since Lady-day—that's to say, if you sign the lease,—and Lady-day's more than a week past. So 'tis I that am the intruder. . . .But passing the garden yesterday, I'd a notion that half a dozen dwarf roses would improve it, without your knowledge. You're not offended, I hope, now that you've caught me? I dote on roses, for my part."
"I—I take it very kindly, ma'am."
"'Tis a funny time o' the year to be plantin' roses, isn't it?" asked
Fancy.
"Eh?" In the dusk Mrs Bosenna treated her to a disapproving stare. "Is that Elijah Tabb's child? . . . You've grown such a lot lately, I hardly recognised you."
"I noticed that," said the child with composure, "though I didn't guess the reason. But 'tis a funny time to be plantin' roses, all the same."
"And pray, child, what do you know about roses?"
"Nothing," answered Fancy, "'cept that 'tis a funny time to be plantin' 'em."
"When you grow a little older," said Mrs Bosenna icily, "you'll know that anything can be done with roses in these days—with proper precautions. Why"—she turned to Captain Cai—"I've planted out roses in July month—in pots, of course. You break the pots in the October following. But there must be precautions."
"Meanin' manure?"