Sir Charles admired the red roses, which Anne declared she had bought
for two-and-threepence.

'Very ingenious,' said Sir Charles.

'I _am_ ingenious and clever,' said Anne. 'I get my cleverness from my
father, and my economy from my mother. My father's a clergyman, but his
wife was a little country girl--a sort of Merry Peasant; like Schumann's
piece, you know. Peasants are always merry.'

'I fancy that's a myth,' said Cecil. 'If not, I've been singularly
unfortunate, for all the peasants _I_ ever ran across seemed most
depressed.'

'Of course, if you ran over them!' said Hyacinth.

'But I didn't exactly run over them; I only asked them the way to
somewhere. They _were_ angry! Now I come to think of it, though, they
weren't peasants at all. It was only one man. He was a shepherd. I got
to know him better afterwards, and he was rather a good chap. Shepherds
don't have a bad time; they just wear ribbons and crooks and dance with
shepherdesses, you know.'

'Oh, then _can_ you tell me why a red sky at night is a shepherd's
delight?' asked Hyacinth. 'Is it because it's a sign of rain, and he
needn't look after the sheep, but can go fast asleep like little
Bo-peep--or was it little Boy Blue--if he likes?'

'For you, I'll try to find out; but I'm ashamed to say I know very