beaten garments, planting something in one of the borders at a
little distance.

"Bainton!" he called.

The figure slowly raised itself, and as slowly turned its head.

"Sir!"

"Just come here and tie this rose up, will you?"

The individual addressed approached at a very deliberate pace,
dragging out some entangled roffia from his pocket as he came and
severing it into lengths with his teeth. Walden partly prepared his
task for him by holding up the rose branch in the way it should go,
and on his arrival assisted him in the business of securing it to
the knotty bough from which it had fallen.

"That looks better!" he remarked approvingly, as he stepped back and
surveyed it. "You might do this one at the same time while you are
about it, Bainton."

And he pointed to a network of 'Crimson rambler' rose-stems which
had blown loose from their moorings and were lying across the grass.

"This place wants a reg'ler clean out," remarked Bainton then, in
accents of deep disdain, as he stooped to gather up the refractory
branches: "It beats me altogether, Passon, to know what you wants
wi' a forcin' bed for weeds an' stuff in the middle of a decent
garden. That old Wistaria Sinyens (Sinensis) is the only thing here