After which Arthur folded his paper and put it into an envelope which he licked copiously, and closed the letter with a great deal of display. But then his industry coming to an abrupt end, as it often did, he tossed it to me saying, "You can address it, Mary;" so I enclosed it in my own letter to thank Mother for the book, and I fancy she did write to our gardener, for he gave us a good lot of things, and was much more good-natured than usual. After Arthur had tossed his letter to me, he clasped his hands over his head and walked up and down thinking. I thought he was calculating what he should be able to get out of John, for when you are planning about a garden, you seem to have to do so much calculating. Suddenly he stopped in front of me and threw down his arms. "Mary," he said, "if Mother were at home, she _would_ despise us for selfishness, wouldn't she just?" "I don't think it's selfish to want spare things for our gardens, if she gives us leave," said I. "I'm not thinking of that," said Arthur; "and you're not selfish, you never are; but she would despise me, and Adela, and Harry, because we've taken your game, and got our parts, and you've made that preposterous bonnet for Adela to be the Weeding Woman in----much she'll weed!----" "I _shall_ weed," said Adela. "Oh, yes! You'll weed,--Groundsel!--and leave Mary to get up the docks and dandelions, and clear away the heap. But, never mind. Here we've taken Mary's game, and she hasn't even got a part." "Yes," said I, "I have; I have got a capital part. I have only to think of a name." "How shall you be dressed?" asked Adela. "I don't know yet," said I. "I have only just thought of the part." "Are you sure it's a good-enough one?" asked Harry, with a grave and remorseful air; "because, if not, you must take Francis le Vean. Girls are called Frances sometimes." I explained, and I read aloud the bit that had struck my fancy. Arthur got restless half-way through, and took out the Book of Paradise. His letter was on his mind. But Adela was truly delighted. "Oh, Mary," she said, "it is lovely. And it just suits you. It suits you much better than being a Queen." "Much better," said I. "You'll be exactly the reverse of me," said Harry. "When I'm digging up, you'll be putting in." "Mary," said Arthur, from the corner where he was sitting with the Book of Paradise in his lap, "what have you put a mark in the place about honeysuckle for?" "Oh, only because I was just reading there when James brought the letters." "John Parkinson can't have been quite so nice a man as Alphonse Karr," said Adela; "not so unselfish. He took care of the Queen's Gardens, but he didn't think of making the lanes and hedges nice for poor wayfarers." I was in the rocking-chair, and I rocked harder to shake up something that was coming into my head. Then I remembered.