"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm weary
of having no time at all to myself."

"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."

"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four children to
look after--five including yourself."

"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me as a
child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden threads
among the silver."

"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."

"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer; only we
don't talk about it."

"But we _do_ talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't we?"

"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug up--"

"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last pip of
chicken-food."

"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise to do
that I'll promise never to mention them again."

"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and Colonels."

"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of their