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 planting things." So he put down his bag and they walked to the end of the garden, where a new flower-bed looked scratched-up and disordered, and was edged with little drooping plants.

"Very pretty," he said, looking at her and absently prodding at the mould with his umbrella. "I suppose they'll grow?"

"Oh yes, Martin, they're going to grow right up and hide the board-fence; it's so ugly."

"If they're going to be so tall you should have planted them at the back and put the smaller things in front. As it is, everything else would be hidden."

"Why, yes," she cried, disheartened, "I never thought of that—oh, Martin! It seemed such a pity to go walking over the new flower-bed, leaving foot marks; that's why I put them near the edge—and now I can't unplant them. What a lot there is to learn! Will you take me to the Gardening Exhibition next summer? I was reading about it—there are corners of gardens by all the famous people, and stone seats, and fountains—we might buy a sundial there,