"The Ethels did begin it some time ago; I caught them at it," he
accused, shaking his finger at his sister and cousin.
"I told the girls we had been taking flowers to the Old Ladies' Home,"
confessed Ethel Brown.
"O, you have! I didn't know that! I did find out that you were supplying
the Atwoods down by the bridge with sweetpeas."
"There have been such oodles," protested Ethel Blue.
"Of course. It was the right thing to do."
"How did you know about it, anyway? Weren't you taking flowers there
yourself?"
"No, ma'am."
"What were you doing?"
"I know; I saw him digging there one day."
"O, keep still, Dorothy," Roger remonstrated.
"You might as well tell us about it."
"It isn't anything. I did look in one day to ask if they'd like some
sweetpeas, but I found the Ethels were ahead of me. The old lady has a
fine snowball bush and a beauty syringa in front of the house. When I
spoke about them she said she had always wanted to have a bed of white
flowers around the two bushes, so I offered to make one for her. That's
all."
"Good for Roger!" cried Margaret. "Tell us what you put into it. We've
had pink and blue and yellow beds this year; we can add white next
year."
"Just common things," replied Roger. "It was rather late so I planted
seeds that would hurry up; sweet alyssum for a border, of course, and
white verbenas and balsam, and petunias, and candytuft and, phlox and
stocks and portulaca and poppies.
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