"Middling," he replied.
"Want more sun.

Can't get my pears to market without more sun." "It has been dull," I said.
"Splendid for planting out, my lad, but bad for ripening off.

Well, how are you ?" I said again that I was very well; and he looked at me thoughtfully, put one end of a bit of matting between his teeth, and drew it out tightly with his left hand.

Then he began to twang it thoughtfully, and made it give out a dull musical note.
"Seen my new pansies ?" he said--"no, of course not," he added quickly; "and I asked you before.

Come and look at them." He led me to a bed which was full of beautifully rounded, velvety-petalled flowers.
"What do you think of them ?" he said--"eh?
There's a fine one, _Mulberry Superb_; rich colour--eh ?" "They are lovely," I said warmly.
"Hah! yes!" he said, looking at me thoughtfully; "she liked white roses, though--yes, white roses--and they are all over." My lip began to quiver, but I mastered the emotion and he went on: "Thought I should have seen you before, my lad.