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Updated: May 11, 2025
She was only cross with me when I surprised her in the potting-shed wearing an old bonnet out of which hung a faded poppy. She used to cry: "Don't look at me, Kant. I know I'm like an old gipsy woman." "You look charming," I said, "in that old bonnet." She put down the watering-can and laughingly took it from her head. "It is a regular show." "Not at all.
I picked it up, and, not to make a long story of it, I was helped by much the same devices to increase my collection to four. And now I felt it would be wise to turn back. As I turned into the back garden and came in sight of the little potting-shed or tool-house or whatever it was, I started. Someone was just coming out of it. I gave a loud cough.
One morning I found Martin with old Tommy the Mate in his potting-shed, deep in the discussion of their usual subject the perils and pains of Arctic exploration, when you have little food in your wallet and not too much in your stomach. "But you has lots of things when you gets there hams and flitches and oranges and things hasn't you?" said Martin. "Never a ha'p'orth," said Tommy.
"Ye-es. No," panted Peter. "Why, you white-faced, cowardly noodle!" cried Dan'l. "What d'yer mean?" "I I. Come out of here into the garden," whispered Peter. Dan'l was going down the garden to the potting-shed, so he made no objection, and, arrived there, Peter, with solemn emphasis, told how he had gone in search of the squirrel, and that there was something up in the loft.
She desired to remain in her old gown an old thing that her daughter had discarded long ago pinned up around her, and on her head an old bonnet with a faded poppy hanging from the crown. In such attire she wished to be allowed to trot about to and fro from her greenhouse to her potting-shed, watering, pruning, and syringing her plants.
There was an old bucket inside the potting-shed upon which Diana had her eye; she had schemes that centred round that bucket. It had holes drilled in its sides, and had been used during building operations to light a fire in. She was determined it should be used for that purpose again. Down by the brink of the lake was a boat-house that belonged to the school.
When the knocks came at the front door, I was now instructed to see whether the visitor were not she, before my Father bolted to the potting-shed. She was an untiring listener, and my Father had a genius for instruction. Miss Wilkes was never weary of expressing what a revelation of the wonderful works of God in creation her acquaintance with us had been.
"What about the potting-shed?" said Berry. "We can easily move the more sensitive bulbs." "If it's good," said Daphne, "we'll have it in the library." "I object," said her husband. "I don't want to be alone with it after dark." I smiled upon him. Then: "Bur-rother," said I. "I like to think that I shall be always with you.
We seem to have acquired some of your household gods at that time, but nothing survives except the mug and the old cradle, which I found in the potting-shed and am having put in order for you. I hope little George Lashmar, he will be too, won't he? will live to see his grandchildren cut their teeth on his mug. Affectionately yours, ALICE CONANT. P.S. How quiet you've kept about it all!
For, either he looked like an untidy parcel of brown paper, loose ends of string straggling out of him, or else in his Sunday best was indistinguishable from a rose- bush wrapped up carefully in matting against the frost. Yet, in either aspect, no one could pretend that he looked like anything but a genuine Head Gardener, the spirit of the kitchen-garden and the potting-shed incarnate.
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