I hope, at some future time to be allowed--even encouraged--to refer to such things as The Most Artistic Way to Frame Cucumbers, How to Stop Tomatoes Blushing (the homoeopathic method of putting them next to the French beans is now discredited), and Spring Fashions in Fox Gloves. But for the moment I have said enough. The great thing to remember in gardening is that flowers, fruits and vegetables alike can only be cultivated with sympathy. Special attention should be given to backward and delicate plants. They should be encouraged to make the most of themselves. Never forget that flowers, like ourselves, are particular about the company they keep. If a hyacinth droops in the celery bed, put it among the pansies. But above all, mind, a firm hand with the rhubarb. XXIII. THE COMING OF THE CROCUS "It's a bootiful day again, Sir," said my gardener, James, looking in at the study window. "Bootiful, James, bootiful," I said, as I went on with my work. "You might almost say as Spring was here at last, like." "Cross your fingers quickly, James, and touch wood. Look here, I'll be out in a minute and give you some orders, but I'm very busy just now." "Thought you'd like to know there's eleven crocuses in the front garden." "Then send them away--we've got nothing for them." "Crocuses," shouted James. I jumped up eagerly and climbed through the window. "My dear man," I said, shaking him warmly by the hand, "this is indeed a day. Crocuses! And in the front gar--on the South Lawn! Let us go and gaze at them." There they were--eleven of them. Six golden ones, four white, and a little mauve chap. "This is a triumph for you, James. It's wonderful. Has anything like this ever happened to you before?" "There'll be some more up to-morrow, I won't say as not." "Those really are growing, are they? You haven't been pushing them in from the top? They were actually born on the estate?" "There'll be a fine one in the back bed soon," said James proudly. "In the back--my dear James! In the spare bed on the North-east terrace, I suppose you mean? And what have we done in the Dutch Ornamental Garden?" "If I has to look after ornamental gardens and South aspics and all, I ought to have my salary raised," said James, still harping on his one grievance. "By all means raise some celery," I said coldly. "Take the spade and raise some for lunch. I shall be only too delighted." "This here isn't the season for celery, as you know well. This here's the season for crocuses, as any one can see if they use their eyes." "James, you're right. Forgive me. It is no day for quarrelling." It was no day for working either. The sun shone upon the close-cropped green of the deer park, the sky was blue above the rose garden, in the tapioca grove a thrush was singing. I walked up and down my estate and drank in the good fresh air. "James!" I called to my head-gardener. "What is it now?" he grumbled. "Are there no daffodils, to take the winds of March with beauty?"