falling on the dishes and on the heads of the talkers, the council of war was held.
Jane opened it, of course.
"Now, Mr. Dix, here we all are," she said, "and do smoke if you want to, and then tell us what your great idea is."
"The idea is that we should go into a sort of partnership. No, not that exactly. You see, I don't know. Perhaps what I'm proposing is only silly. I can't help thinking that you're not rich. And yet you have this house and garden. And yet you're selling flowers, so you must want money. And yet . . ."
"Don't," said Jane, "I'll tell you. Don't go on guessing. Our relations left us enough money to do nothing on—think how dull that would have been! Then our guardian bolted with the money. He only left us £500 and a little house that belonged to Lucy's aunt. Then we began to sell flowers. Then an old gentleman who used to be a friend of Lucy's aunt gave us leave to use the garden and the garden room here and to sell the flowers. Then we got a gardener to do a little and put in a few seeds. Then we met you. Then the old gentleman was pleased with us about some panelling we cleaned, and he's lent us the house to do what we like with for five years or longer if we like. That's our life-story in three words. You see, it was like this . . ." She continued and elaborated her theme in words that lasted a cigarette and a half with interjections from Lucilla, who at last said:
"Yes, and now we haven't got quite four hundred."
"And I haven't anything but plans and energy and some experience," said Mr. Dix. "You said the other day that you were born lucky, Miss Quested. Perhaps you're one of those people who succeed in everything they touch, always. I'm not. But sometimes I succeed—and I always know when I'm going to. More than once in France . . ." he stopped, and asked almost instantly, "And you—what were your plans?"
"We thought if we could get a gardener we could grow
