"He said," replied the gardener, doling out the sentences to his impatient master with irritating slowness, "as how he had comed through Lunnon, and been to one o' they big flower-shows they talk so much about. And he said as there were a Farlyensy there--" "Well, well?" "As belonged to a dook--" "Yes,--well, what did he say? Can't you speak?" "As warn't fit to hold a candle to owers," burst out Stokes triumphantly, slapping his leg with an emphasis which made Mr Mannering, who had returned to his seat at the writing-table, start and look round in, mild expostulation. His brother was rubbing his hands, and beaming in every feature of his round face. "To be sure, to be sure," he said in a tone of supreme satisfaction. "Just what one would have expected. But I am glad Anthony happened to be up there just at this time, and I will say for the lad that he makes better use of his eyes than three parts of the young fellows one meets with. So it was an inferior sort of article, was it?--with fronds half the size, I'll lay a wager. You hear, Charles, don't you? Well, Stokes, you have been exceedingly careful to treat that Farleyense in the manner I showed you,--I knew it would answer,--here, man, here's half a sovereign for you, and mind the earth doesn't get too dry." "Thank ye, sir, thank ye," said Stokes, prudently abstaining from the contradiction in which at another time he might have indulged. "And, Stokes--" "Yes, Mr Robert." "If Mr Anthony comes up again, just let me know. I should wish him to see one or two of the other things in the house, but I prefer showing them to him myself." "It's most likely he'll be up again to-day, sir. He wants Miss Winifred to have a look at the plant." "Certainly, certainly. You can send in word when they come. And, Stokes--" Stokes, who by this time had his hand upon the door, having tucked the luckless Gesnera out of sight, turned obediently. "No experiments, mind, no experiments." "No, Mr Robert 'Specially korkynit," added the gardener in an audible whisper, as he went out. Whether or not Mr Robert heard him, it is impossible to say. Something like a red flush rose in his face, and he looked hurriedly at his brother; but Mr Mannering was sitting back in his deep chair, his elbows on its arms, his fingers joined at the tips, his eyes fixed upon the volume before him, and if the shadow of a smile just hovered about his lips, it might have been excited by some touch of subtile humour in the pages which apparently absorbed his attention. The younger brother fidgeted, went to the window, altered a slight crookedness about the blind, stood there in his favourite attitude, with his hands behind his back, and at length returned to the writing-table, and took up one of the bundles of papers which were lying upon it. "You have written to Thompson about the mortgage, I suppose?" he said in a business-like tone which contrasted oddly with his previous bustling excitement.