"Do come and look at them." "Bella told me you had some fine ones," answered Mrs.Bellairs, "but I have not patience to look at my neighbours' flowers this year, mine have been such a failure." "These certainly are not a failure," said Mr.Percy, as they reached a bed of beautiful roses in full bloom.

"Have you any flower-shows in Canada?
You ought to exhibit, Miss Costello." Lucia laughed.

"What chance should I have?
They say an amateur never can compete with a professed gardener, and ours is all amateur work." "Is it possible?
Do you mean to say that you do actually cultivate your flowers with your own hands ?" "Certainly, with a little help from my friends." She was about to say "from Maurice," but changed the phrase.

"If you saw me at work here in the mornings, you would at least give me credit for trying to cultivate them." "Should I?
You tempt me to take a peep into your Eden some morning when you are gardening." "Pray don't," she answered, laughing.

"The effects would be too dreadful." "What would they be ?" "The moment you caught sight of my working costume you would be seized with such a horror of Backwoods manners and customs that you would fly, not only from Cacouna, but from Canada, at the expense of I do not know what business of State." "I wonder why you, and so many of your neighbours, seem to think of an Englishman as if he were a fine lady.