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like this yellow one, etc., and I will pay ten cents apiece 
for them.” The fact is, I wouldn’t sell plants like those 
for fifty cents apiece, for I want them for seed. Of 
course I must keep all my best plants and sell only those 
that don’t quite come up to my standard for seed-plants. 
Even these, however, attract much attention. 
“Hey, you Pansy King,” is the salutation given the 
man who takes my pansies to market for me. 
“Oh these are just Mrs. Ellis’ culls,” he replies. 
Some days I fix up a box of plants that are so 
nearly good enough for seed-plants that we put a price 
of fifteen cents apiece on them. At first the saleslady 
was dubious about asking that price for them. 
“People wont pay that much for pansy plants,” she 
said. The fact was, though, that that day all the fif- 
teen-cent plants were sold before any of the others. 
People are willing to pay for the best. 
If I were selecting pansy plants, I would gladly pay 
any reasonable or unreasonable price for what I wanted. 
When working up my strain some years ago, after fail¬ 
ing to secure what I hoped from my many trial packets 
of seed, my husband made it a point to go around to 
the different florists’ shops during the noon hour; and 
when he found a pansy plant that he considered quite 
superior, he would buy the whole basket, if necessary, 
in order to get that one plant. 
For a long time I had been on the lookout for what 
I considered a real good red pansy, but was not satisfied 
until I was shown around a Japanese grower’s gardens. 
There I spotted just the one I wanted and almost held 
my breath as I asked for it, fearing he would want to 
save it for a seed-plant. I would have given fifty cents 
