Granny was almost well now. She could do many things about the house, which looked much neater than when it was left only to Mary.
"I want to stop and see Mr. Regan," answered Phil.
"Oh, very well. Just look in at the cow, and give my duty to Mrs. Barnard if you see her," said granny, who had old-fashioned notions of politeness.
Phil found Mr. Regan busy in the garden, as usual, and at once asked his question.
"Please, Mr. Regan, will it hurt pansies to transplant them now?"
"Not if you do it in the cool of the day, water them well, and shade them for a day or so," answered the old gardener. "How have yours turned out?"
"Famously," answered Phil, "only—well, you see, Mr. Regan, I feel all the time as if I hadn't any right to them, and so I'm just going to take them back to the lady that threw away the seed."
"You're a good boy and an honest boy," said Mr. Regan, "and you are going to do the right thing. However I wouldn't take them all up, for fear they shouldn't do well. Take the lady some of each kind, and then if they don't live, you can give her more. And stop in on your way home and I'll give you a lot of slips. It's such a growing time, the geraniums and things are getting out of all reason."
Phil waited till toward sunset, and then filling a basket with the very best of the pansy roots, he took them up to Mr. Anderson's, for he had heard Miss Mary say that she was going to spend two or three days with Miss Isabel. He found the two young ladies on the lawn admiring some double petunias.
"Why, Phil, what have you here?" asked Miss Isabel. "Some of your beautiful pansy roots."