, spoilt childern, too, as I zay, and most
fuss about they that be least worth it, zickly uns and contrairy uns,
as parents will. Many's time I do say to she--'Th' old Zquire's
garden, now, 'twould zim strange to thee, sartinly 'twould! How would
'ee feel to see Gardener zowing's spring plants by the hunderd, and
a-throwing of 'em away by the score when beds be vull, and turning of
un out for bedding plants, and throwing they away when he've made his
cuttings?' And she 'low she couldn't abear it, no more'n see Herod a
mass-sakering of the Innocents. But if 'ee come to Bible, I do say
Aunt put me in mind of the par'ble of the talents, she do, for what
you give her she make ten of, while other folks be losing what they
got. And 'tis well too, for if 'twas not for givin' of un away,
seeing's she lose nothin', and can't abear to destry nothin', and
never takes un up but to set un again, six in place of one, as I say,
with such a mossel of a garden, 'Aunt, where would you be?' And she
'low she can't tell, but the Lard would provide. 'Thank He,' I says,
'You be so out o' way, and 'ee back so bad, and past travelling, zo
there be no chance of 'ee ever seein' Old Zquire's Gardener's houses
and they stove plants;' for if Gardener give un a pot, sure's death
her'd set it in the chimbly nook on frosty nights, and put bed-quilt
over un, and any cold corner would do for she."

At this point the Weeding Woman became short of breath, and I managed
to protest against taking so many plants of the hose-in-hose.

"Take un and welcome, my dear, take un and welcome," replied Bessy's
Aunt. "I did say to Aunt to keep two or dree, but 'One be aal I want,'
her says, 'I'll have so many agin in a few years, dividin' of un in
autumn,' her says. 'Thee've one foot in grave Aunt,' says I, 'it don't
altogether become 'ee to forecast autumns,' I says, 'when next may be
your latter end, 's like as not.' 'Niece,' her says, 'I be no ways
presuming. His will be done,' her says, 'but if I'm spared I'll rear
un, an if I'm took, 'twill be where I sha'n't want un. Zo let young
lady have un,' her says. And there a be!"

When I first saw the nice little plants, I did think of my own garden,
but not for long. My next and final thought was--"Mary's Meadow!"

Since I became Traveller's Joy, I had chiefly been busy in the
hedge-rows by the high-roads, and in waste places, like the old
quarry, and very bare and trampled bits, where there seemed to be no
flowers a