"Is it any o' this lot?" he inquired, dropping a small haycock of
flowers at her feet.

"Don't ye know one from t'other?" asked Phoebe, with round eyes of
reproach. And spreading her clean kerchief on the grass she laid her
Bible and Prayer-book and class card on it, and set vigorously and
nattily to work, picking one flower and another from the fragrant
confusion, nipping the stalks to even lengths, rejecting withered
leaves, and instructing Jack as she proceeded.

"I suppose ye know a rose? That's a double velvet. [Footnote: Double
velvet, an old summer rose, not common now It is described by
Parkinson.] They dry sweeter than lavender for linen. These dark red
things is pheasants' eyes; but, dear, dear, what a lad! Ye'd dragged it
up by the roots! And eh! what will Master Darwin say when he misses
these pink hollyhocks And only in bud, too! _There's_ red Bergamot:
smell it!" [Footnote: Red Bergamot, or Twinflower; _Monarda
Didyma_.]

It had barely touched Jack's willing nose when it was hastily withdrawn.
Phoebe had caught eight of Polly and Susan Smith coming to school, and
crying that she should be late and must run, the little maid picked up
her paraphernalia (not forgetting the red bergamot), and fled down the
lane. And Jack, with equal haste, snatched up the tell-tale heap of
flowers and threw them into a disused pig-sty, where it was unlikely
that Daddy Darwin would go to look for his poor pink hollyhocks.