"That might do it," I added, "or it might not. But at least that is
the sort of spirit that you want to show."
Once more they laughed ... and then they planted it.
. . . . . . . .
These have been two difficult years for me. There have been times
when I have almost lost faith, and not even the glories of our own
flame-flower could cheer me. But at last the news came. I was at
home for the week-end and, after rather a tiring day showing
visitors the north-east end of the pergola, I went indoors for a
rest. On the table there was a letter for me. It was from Mrs
Atherley.
"BY THE WAY," she wrote, "THE FLAME-FLOWER IS DEAD."
"By the way"!
But even if they had taken the business seriously, even if they had
understood fully what a great thing it was they were
attempting--even then I think they would have failed.
For, though I like the Atherleys very much, though I think them all
extremely jolly ... yet--I doubt, you know, if they are QUITE the
family to have a flame-flower growing in their garden.