A GARDEN DIARY 105 
“How dare he!—I mean I don’t believe a 
word of that!” I exclaimed. ‘‘Anything else 
I am willing to believe, but not that. We have 
got our tails between our legs here at home if 
you like; I am quite ready to admit that. But 
they! Never!” 
“Well, I don’t know. I only tell you what 
I hear. They have had a baddish time, you 
must remember. Stormberg and all that !—quite 
enough to give anyone the jumps, / should say. 
Of course it has been kept out of the papers. 
In the papers the Tommies always figure as 
heroes. Is Anemone Blanda in flower with 
you yet?”—this with a sudden rise of anima- 
tion. 
“Anemone Blanda?” I repeated, feeling slightly 
confused by the rapidity of the transition. “ Yes. 
At least no. I think not—I haven’t looked 
lately.” 
“Tt is with me! Sixteen tufts in full flower— 
beauties! I shelter them a bit of course, but 
only to save them from getting knocked about. 
You never saw such a colour as they are! 
Yours were the pale blue ones, weren’t they? 
I know there’s a lot of that sort in the trade 
that are sold as Anemone Blanda, but they’re 
not the right Blanda at all. Mine are as blue 
as, oh, as blue as—blue paint.” 
‘““We have numbers of bulbs at present in 
flower,” I said severely. ‘‘Scillas and chino- 
