Condescension that Withers 



dener on an English estate. He himself was thus 

 brought up on ribbon beds. If you will listen, 

 he will tell you. First a row of lobelia, then 

 feathery-few, then Phlox Drummondii. He roUs 

 out the last name as the proudest part of his 

 inheritance, and with a contemptuous glance 

 looks down upon my edging of clove pinks. His 

 foot is already on his spade in menace. Mine to 

 him is a grubby little place. There, there were 

 "h'acres and h'acres of h'orchids." Do you won- 

 der that he cannot keep to my diminutive paths? 

 His feet once strode up avenues of green sward. 

 Is it strange that he tramples carelessly upon 

 my seed-bed? What was even a "h'orchid from 

 a whole h'acre?" Tim's pretensions rest on one 

 sole day when he toiled in a famous garden in 

 the neighborhood. Since then I may not grow 

 my dahlias as the vulgar grow them in the open 

 earth. They must rise out of grass; though 

 imderneath their branches if you look, you will 

 find circles of brown soil cut with a compass and 

 trimmed with disproportionate care. Tim, too, 

 knows what's right. But for sheer undermining 

 gi'owth no condescension equals Patsy's. It 



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