"'_Phlox Drummondi_. This is one of the finest annuals, being hardy, easy of cultivation, and making as a summer bedding plant an effective and brilliant display. The flowers are of long duration and of most gorgeous and varied colours. One foot. One fourth ounce, special mixture; contains all the finest and most brilliant colours.' Wait, now, P--ph--phlox--my, this is like the dictionary! Here we are! Plant twelve inches apart. My goodness, if you plant all those twelve inches apart, you'll fill the whole farm! Where are you going to put them?" "Why not around the sundial?" said I. "They appear to be low and of a superlative variety of brilliant colour. And they're an old-fashioned posy." "Everything is superlative in a seed catalogue, I observe," she smiled. "Peter Bell could never have written a successful catalogue, could he? Yes, I think they'd be lovely round the sundial, with something tall on the outside, in clumps. Something white, like the pillar, to show them off." We wheeled out the phlox plants and set them in the circular beds ringing the sundial, working on boards laid down on the ground, for my grass seed was sprouting, if rather spindly and in patches. Then we returned for something tall and white. Alas! we went over the catalogue once, twice, three times, but there was nothing in my seed bed which would do! The stock was little higher than the phlox. White annual larkspur would have served, if there had been any--but there wasn't. "It's the last time anybody else ever picks my seeds for me!" I declared. "Gee, I'll know a few things by next year." "Gee, but you must fill up those sundial beds, _this_ year," said she. "Oh, dear, I did want some tall clumps of white on the outside!" "Well, here are asters. Asters are white, sometimes. See if these are. Giant comet, that sounds rather exciting. Also, débutante. They ought to be showy. Most débutantes are nowadays." She scanned my box of empty seed envelopes. "Oh, dear, the giant comets are mixed," she said. "But"--with a look at the catalogue--"the débutantes are white. They grow only a foot and a half, but they are white." "Well, they'll have to fox trot round the dial, then," said I. I dug them up, and we put them in clumps in the irregularities on the outside edges of the beds, first filling the holes part full of water, as I had seen Mike do with the cauliflower plants. "Let me do some," she pleaded. "Here I've been reading the old catalogue all the morning, while you've been digging in the nice dirt." She kneeled on the board, holding a plant caressingly in her hand, and with her naked fingers set it and firmed it in the moist earth. Then she set a second, and a third, holding up her grimy fingers gleefully. "Oh, you nice earth!" she finally exclaimed, digging both hands eagerly in to the wrists.