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“No, no, dear. Keep them, an’ I’ll put them in warter when we go to the house,” begged Betty. “The fairies are orful cross when they see dead flowers lyin’ round. Mebbe they might be too angry to come in the garding again ever.” May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?” “Yes, right now.” He stepped nearer, and Bouncer growled and bristled..
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The story had fairly begun when Mrs. Wopp, Nell Gordon and Mrs. Bliggins could be heard coming up the ladder. Diligently as Betty had tended this little garden, it was considered to be a family possession, the child’s own particular treasures lying beyond its fragrant border. Her cherished morning-glories and climbing nasturtiums found a welcome support in the old wooden fence. “Choose your partners for a quadrille,” called Geordie, and once more the floor was filled. There was room for six sets and in one of these stood Mr. Wopp with his partner Nell, while at the capacious side of Mrs. Wopp was Howard. “Please, Mister, my nose was bleedin’ an’ I lorst my way lookin’ fer warter, an’ here I am on Jording’s stormy banks.”.
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