"Good—and Black Knight?"
"Oh, a most wonderful deep black scarlet."
"Out of that little tuft of green!"
I looked up and found his eyes were watching me.
"Why do you ask?" he said. "You're not a gardener."
I agreed I was not.
"I want to get at your philosophy," said I.
"I'm not a philosopher," he replied; "I'm a gardener."
"But what do you get out of it?"
He pointed down to the little Lady Grizels in their green pinafores.