He had dealt with "Sterling Stent," "King Edward Spencer," 
and "Vicomte de Janze." 
These were my prize peas, grown for purposes of exhibition. They 
occupied special quarters, specially fenced in, at the far end of my lit- 
tle garden. The seeds from which these vines were grown had cost a 
shilHng each. It had not occurred to me that Mr. Hannikin would 
venture to stray from the extensive general plantation of sweet peas 
into a domain so obviously limited and private. 
However ... he had done it. There was no use in complaining. 
Sweet peas, after all, are grown to be cut. I contented myself with 
suggesting to Mr. Hannikin that my floral tribute to his deceased aunt's 
memory would benefit by immediate transferrence to a jampot and 
the sequestered coolness of the cemetery. Mr. Hannikin took the 
hint. 
"If a poor man's graditute is any use to you," said Mr. Hannikin, 
by way of valedictory utterance, "you got it. She weer on'y a pore 
ole lady, what growed chickun and tomater for her livin', but hern 
spirit in Heaven will look down on you and bless you, same as I do 
now." 
If another poor man's blessing is of any use to Mr. Hannikin, he 
will have to go somewhere else for it. I withheld it then, and I with- 
hold it now. 
You see, I had been preserving those exhibition flowers for a defi- 
nite object — none other than that of exhibiting them. 
The day succeeding that of Mr. Hannikin's visit was the day ap- 
pointed for the Blowfield and District Flower Show. Sweet peas 
grow quickly; but they don't grow from verdant bud to perfect flower 
in a single night. And verdant buds were all that the accursed Mr. 
Hannikin had left me. 
I attended the flower show, after a prolonged spiritual conflict, 
partly from brave and honorable motives and partly with a view to 
seeing what sort of trash would receive first prize (value I) in the un- 
avoidable absence of my own "exhibit." 
Our Vicar accosted me at the entrance to the show. 
"You are not exhibiting?" he said. 
I explained to the reverend gentleman that an incident unpar- 
alleled in the history of horticulture had deprived me of that 
pleasure. 
"The incident, whatever it was," replied our Vicar, "was, per- 
haps, a fortunate one. It has saved you from a public humiliation. 
Wait tiU you see the winning collection of Sweet peas. Your blooms 
were well enough — pretty flowers: pretty flowers. But these — oh! 
Just you come and look at them." 
It was certainly a stunning "exhibit." The flowers were badly 
staged, in sticky groups and dirty jars. But what flowers! 
i6 
