"You've jolly well got to have one," said Jim.
"There might be a border," suggested his Reverence.
"Really, you may mix some flowers," ventured the Young Man, rather fearful of having his head snapped off again.
"I have seen uncommonly pretty beds done that way. Why, in the Park this year I noticed a background of small close blue flowers, and out of them rose tall pink geraniums. The effect was excellent," said his Reverence.
"'You may see as good sights many times in tarts,'" I remarked, and they none of them knew, not even Jim, that I was quoting the learned Bacon, but thought my temper was affecting my reason.
"Get up off the damp grass," said Jim, offering violent assistance, "and come and contemplate the nursery. Great Scott! after all your bragging to collapse like this. Aren't the babies there still?"
"I have hundreds of nothing, and they are all such tiny things it would take thousands of them to fill these hideous big beds."
So rather a downcast procession wended their way round the shrubbery to the little yard with its frame and manure heap and enclosures of plantlets.