the table the Rector asked if Guy were doing anything particular
that afternoon, and on receiving an assurance that he was not, the
Rector asked if he would help with the sweet-peas that still wanted
sorting. Guy in a bodeful gloom said he would be delighted.

"I shall be in the garden at two," said the Rector.

"Shall I come as well and help?" Pauline offered.

"No; I want you to take some things into the town for me," said the
Rector.

Guy's heart sank at this confirmation of his fears. Out in the hall
Margaret took him aside.

"Well, are you happy?"

"Margaret, you've been beyond words good to me."

"Always be happy," she said.

Even Monica whispered to him that he was lucky, and Guy was so deeply
impressed at being whispered to by Monica that it gave him a little
courage for his interview. He joined the Rector in the garden punctually
at two, and worked hard with labels and classifications.

"_A7_," the Rector read out. "_A lavender twice as big as Lady Grizel
Hamilton. D21. An orange that will not burn._ Humph! I don't believe it.
Do you believe that, Birdwood?"

The gardener shook his head.

"There never was an orange as didn't burn like a house on fire the
moment the sun set eyes on it."

"Of course it'll burn, and, anyhow, there's no such thing as an orange
sweet-pea. If there is, it's Henry Eckford."

"Henry isn't orange," said Birdwood. "Leastways not an orange like you
get at Christmas."

"More buff?"

"Buff as he can be," said Birdwood. "What do you think, Mr. Hazlenut?"
he went on, turning to Guy and winking very hard.

"I really don't know him ... it...." said Guy.

"_O5_," the Rector began again. "_A cream and rose picotee Spenser._
Yes, I dare say," he commented. "And with about as much smell as
distilled water."

So the business went on, with Guy on tenterhooks all the while for his
own summing-up by the Rector. He thought the moment was arrived when
Birdwood was sent off on an errand and when the Rector, getting up from
his kneeler, began to shake the trowel at him impressively. But all he
said was:

"Tingitana's plumping up magnificently. And we'll have some flowers in
three weeks--the first I shall have had since the Diamond Jubilee. Sun!
Sun!"

Guy jumped at the apostrophe, so nearly did it approximate to
"son-in-law." But of this relation nothing was said, and now Pauline
was calling out that tea was ready.

"Go in, my dear fellow," said the Rector. "I've still a few t