106 A GARDEN DIARY 
doxas, and daffodils, and tulips, and Iris Alata, 
and many others.” 
“Ah, potted bulbs. They’re poor sort of 
things generally, don’t you think ? Some people, 
I believe, like them though.” 
“We have Cyclamen Coum in flower out of 
doors,” I added ; garden vanity, or more probably 
deflected ill-humour, arousing in me a sudden 
spirit of violent horticultural rivalry. 
“Oh, you have, have you?”—this in a tone 
of somewhat enhanced respect. ‘Don’t you 
shelter it at all?” 
“Not in the least!” I replied contemptuously. 
‘We grow it out in the copse; on the stones; 
in all directions. It is a perfect weed with us. 
No weather seems to make the slightest 
difference.” 
I am really surprised that I did not assert 
that we had Orchids and Bougainvillaas growing 
out of doors in the snow! It is probable that 
I should have done so in another five minutes, 
for irritation sometimes takes the oddest forms. 
Luckily for my veracity our roads just then 
diverged ; my horticultural acquaintance getting 
out at the next station, and I continuing on my 
way to Guildford. 
I don’t think I have ever in my life felt more 
ruffled, more thoroughly exasperated than I was 
by that most uncalled-for remark about the 
Tommies. Had they been all individually my 
