“‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a flower for your button-’ole,’ ses Bob, perlitely, ‘but it’s getting so near the Flower Show now I can’t afford it. If you chaps only knew wot pleasure was to be ‘ad sitting among your innercent flowers, you wouldn’t want to go to the public-house so often.’
“He shook ‘is ‘ead at ‘em, and telling his wife to give the ‘Dook o’ Wellington’ a mug of water, sat down in the chair agin and wiped the sweat off ‘is brow.
“Bill Chambers did a bit o’ thinking as they walked up the road, and by and by ‘e turns to Joe Gubbins and ‘e ses:
“‘Seen anything o’ George English lately, Joe?’
“‘Yes,’ ses Joe.
“‘Seems to me we all ‘ave,’ ses Sam Jones.
“None of ‘em liked to say wot was in their minds, ‘aving all seen George English and swore pretty strong not to tell his secret, and none of ‘em liking to own up that they’d been digging up their gardens to get money as ‘e’d told ‘em about. But presently Bill Chambers ses:
“‘Without telling no secrets or breaking no promises, Joe, supposing a certain ‘ouse was mentioned in a certain letter from forrin parts, wot ‘ouse was it?’
“‘Supposing it was so,’ ses Joe, careful too; ‘the second ‘ouse counting from the Cauliflower.’
“‘The ninth ‘ouse, you mean,’ ses Henery Walker, sharply.
“‘Second ‘ouse in Mill Lane, you mean,’ ses Sam Jones, wot lived there.
“Then they all see ‘ow they’d been done, and that they wasn’t, in a manner o’ speaking, referring to the same letter. They came up and sat ‘ere where we’re sitting now, all dazed-like. It wasn’t only the chance o’ losing the prize that upset ‘em, but they’d wasted their time and ruined their gardens and got called mad by the other folks. Henery Walker’s state o’ mind was dreadful for to see, and he kep’ thinking of ‘orrible things to say to George English, and then being afraid they wasn’t strong enough.
“While they was talking who should come along but George English hisself! He came right up to the table, and they all sat back on the bench and stared at ‘im fierce, and Henery Walker crinkled ‘is nose at him.
“‘Evening,’ he ses, but none of ‘em answered im; they all looked at Henery to see wot ‘e was going to say.
“‘Wot’s up?’ ses George, in surprise.
“‘Gardens,’ ses Henery.
“‘So I’ve ‘eard,’ ses George.
“He shook ‘is ‘ead and looked at them sorrowful and severe at the same time.
“‘So I ‘eard, and I couldn’t believe my ears till I went and looked for myself,’ he ses, ‘and wot I want to say is this: you know wot I’m referring to. If any man ‘as found wot don’t belong to him ‘e knows who to give it to. It ain’t wot I should ‘ave expected of men wot’s lived in the same place as me for years. Talk about honesty,’ ‘e ses, shaking ‘is ‘ead agin, ‘I should like to see a little of it.’
“Peter Smith opened his mouth to speak, and ‘ardly knowing wot ‘e was doing took a pull at ‘is beer at the same time, and if Sam Jones ‘adn’t been by to thump ‘im on the back I b’lieve he’d ha’ died there and then.
“‘Mark my words,’ ses George English, speaking very slow and solemn, ‘there’ll be no blessing on it. Whoever’s made ‘is fortune by getting up and digging ‘is garden over won’t get no real benefit from it. He may wear a black coat and new trousers on Sunday, but ‘e won’t be ‘appy. I’ll go and get my little taste o’ beer somewhere else,’ ‘e ses. ‘I can’t breathe here.’
“He walked off before any one could say a word; Bill Chambers dropped ‘is pipe and smashed it, Henery Walker sat staring after ‘im with ‘is mouth wide open, and Sam Jones, who was always one to take advantage, drank ‘is own beer under the firm belief that it was Joe’s.
“‘I shall take care that Mrs. Pawlett ‘ears o’ this,’ ses Henery, at last.
“‘And be asked wot you dug your garden up for,’ ses Joe, ‘and ‘ave to explain that you broke your promise to George. Why, she’d talk at us for years and years.’
“‘And parson ‘ud preach a sermon about it,’ ses Sam; ‘where’s your sense, Henery?’
“‘We should be the larfing-stock for miles round,’ ses Bill Chambers. ‘If anybody wants to know, I dug my garden up to enrich the soil for next year, and also to give some other chap a chance of the prize.’
“Peter Smith ‘as always been a unfortunit man; he’s got the name for it. He was just ‘aving another drink as Bill said that, and this time we all thought ‘e’d gorn. He did hisself.
“Mrs. Pawlett and the parson came ‘ome next day, an’ ‘er voice got that squeaky with surprise it was painful to listen to her. All the chaps stuck to the tale that they’d dug their garden up to give the others a chance, and Henery Walker, ‘e went further and said it was owing to a sermon on unselfishness wot the curate ‘ad preached three weeks afore. He ‘ad a nice little red-covered ‘ymn-book the next day with ‘From a friend’ wrote in it.
“All things considered, Mrs. Pawlett was for doing away with the Flower Show that year and giving two prizes next year instead, but one or two other chaps, encouraged by Bob’s example, ‘ad given in their names too, and they said it wouldn’t be fair to their wives. All the gardens but one was worse than Bob’s, they not having started till later than wot ‘e did, and not being able to get their geraniums from ‘is florist. The only better garden was Ralph Thomson’s, who lived next door to ‘im, but two nights afore the Flower Show ‘is pig got walking in its sleep. Ralph said it was a mystery to ‘im ‘ow the pig could ha’ got out; it must ha’ put its foot through a hole too small for it, and turned the button of its door, and then climbed over a four-foot fence. He told Bob ‘e wished the pig could speak, but Bob said that that was sinful and unchristian of ‘im, and that most likely if it could, it would only call ‘im a lot o’ bad names, and ask ‘im why he didn’t feed it properly.
“There was quite a crowd on Flower Show day following the judges. First of all, to Bill Chambers’s astonishment and surprise, they went to ‘is place and stood on the ‘eaps in ‘is garden judging ‘em, while Bill peeped at ‘em through the kitchen winder ‘arf-crazy. They went to every garden in the place, until one of the young ladies got tired of it, and asked Mrs. Pawlett whether they was there to judge cottage gardens or earthquakes.
“Everybody ‘eld their breaths that evening in the school room when Mrs. Pawlett got up on the platform and took a slip of paper from one of the judges. She stood a moment waiting for silence, and then ‘eld up her ‘and to stop what she thought was clapping at the back, but which was two or three wimmen who ‘ad ‘ad to take their crying babies out trying to quiet ‘em in the porch. Then Mrs. Pawlett put ‘er glasses on her nose and just read out, short and sweet, that the prize of three sovereigns and a metal teapot for the best-kept cottage garden ‘ad been won by Mr. Robert Pretty.
“One or two people patted Bob on the back as ‘e walked up the middle to take the prize; then one or two more did, and Bill Chambers’s pat was the ‘eartiest of ‘em all. Bob stopped and spoke to ‘im about it.
“You would ‘ardly think that Bob ‘ud have the cheek to stand up there and make a speech, but ‘e did. He said it gave ‘im great pleasure to take the teapot and the money, and the more pleasure because ‘e felt that ‘e had earned ‘em. He said that if ‘e told ‘em all ‘e’d done to make sure o’ the prize they’d be surprised. He said that ‘e’d been like Ralph Thomson’s pig, up early and late.
“He stood up there talking as though ‘e was never going