CHAPTER IX 
HARVESTING THE HEDGES 
September 29. — Michaelmas Day. How pretty Michaelmas 
Daisies are, not merely the common bluish-purple kind, 
but a pale rose-pink variety I first saw in Auvergne ! Star- 
worts the Americans call them, while the Germans say 
Sternblumen. I heard a Scotch lady call them Farewell 
Summers, the other day. 
September 30. — Our flower-selling was a success. It was 
curious to see how popular Maidenhair and other Ferns were 
with most of the buyers, and how the charms of Fuchsias and 
Geraniums paled before the quiet beauty of Ferns. I had 
had tiny blue-leaved Aloes sent to me all the way from 
the South of France, on sale also, but although inspected 
with interest, yet it was not every one wanting flowers who 
was bold enough to venture on such outlandish-looking 
curiosities. “ It will be wanting a greenhouse likely ; it’ll 
no do for the likes of us,” said one would-be purchaser, 
eyeing the uncanny thing doubtfully. “ Oh no,” I said, 
“ it will be quite happy in a sunny window.” “ Ah ! but 
the sun does na come roun’ ta ma winner ! I maun tak’ 
something that can do wanting the sun.” And the poor 
old wife settled on a tiny green Fern, and carried it off in 
triumph, probably to some one of the grey dingy houses 
which stand shoulder to shoulder in the narrow closes of 
the little windblown town. Cut flowers were in great request, 
but well-known favourites went off sooner than Begonias 
and such Greenhouse beauties. Tiny tots came wanting 
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