"My dear man," I began, in the small caressing voice of one who has long
been obstinate and is in the act of giving in, "will you kindly
advertise for a head gardener and a proper number of assistants? Nearly
all the bulbs and seeds and plants I have squandered my money and my
hopes on have turned out to be nettles, and I don't like them. I have
had a wretched summer, and never want to see a meek gardener again."

"My dear Elizabeth," he replied, "I regret that you did not take my
advice sooner. How often have I pointed out the folly of engaging one
incapable person after the other? The vegetables, when we get any, are
uneatable, and there is never any fruit. I do not in the least doubt
your good intentions, but you are wanting in judgment. When will you
learn to rely on my experience?"

I hung my head; for was he not in the pleasant position of being able to
say, "I told you so"?--which indeed he has been saying for the last two
years. "I don't like relying," I murmured, "and have rather a prejudice
against somebody else's experience. Please will you send the
advertisement to-day?"

They came in such shoals that half the population must have been head
gardeners out of situations. I took all the likely ones round the
garden, and I do not think I ever spent a more chastening week than that
week of selection. Their remarks were, naturally, of the frankest
nature, as I had told them I had had practically only gardeners'
assistants since I lived here, and they had no idea, when they were
politely scoffing at some arrangement, that it happened to be one of my
own. The hot-beds in the kitchen garden with which I had taken such
pains were objects of special derision. It appeared that they were all