“And what is the crown of the plant, Logan?”

Logan stooped down and put his fingers to the stem of a rose tree.

“It’s just called the crown o’ the plant, Miss Daisy, here where the roots goes one way and the stem springs up another.  Miss Daisy sees, there’s a kind o’ shouther there.”

“No, I don’t see,” said Daisy.

Logan put in his spade, and with a turn or two brought up the little rose bush he had chosen for her purpose; and holding the ball of earth, in his hand, shewed her the part of the plant he spoke of, just above the surface of the soil.

“It’s the most tenderest pairt of the vegetable nature,” he said; “and it must be kept out of the ground, where it can breathe, like; it won’t answer to cover it up.”

“I will not,” said Daisy.  “Then?—­”

“Then, when ye have gotten the place prepared, ye must set in this ball of earth, as haill as ye can keep it; but if it gets broken off, as it’s like it will!—­then ye must set the roots kindly in on the soft earth, and let them lie just natural; and put in the soft earth over them; and when ye have got a little in press it down a bit; and then more, after the same manner, until it’s all filled up.”

“Why must it be pressed down?”

“Weel, Miss Daisy, it must be dune; the roots is accustomed to have the soil tight round them, and they don’t like it unless they have it so.  It’s a vara good way, to have a watering pot of water and make a puddle in the bottom of the hole, and set the roots in that and throw in the soil; and then it settles itself all round them, and ye need not to coax it with your fingers.  But if ye don’t puddle the roots, the bush must be well watered and soaked when ye have dune.”

“Very well, Logan—­thank you.  Now please put it in a basket for me, with a trowel, and let me take a watering pot of water too; or Lewis can carry that, can’t he?”

“He can take whatever ye have a mind,” said Logan; “but where is it going?”

“I’ll take the basket with the rose,” said Daisy—­“it’s going a little way—­you can set it just here, in my chaise, Logan.”

The gardener deposited the basket safely in the chaise, and Daisy got in and shook the reins.  Lewis, much wondering and a little disgustful, was accommodated with a watering pot full of water, by the grinning Logan.

“See ye ride steady now, boy,” he said.  “Ye won’t want to shew any graces of horsemanship, the day!”

Whatever Lewis might have wanted, the necessity upon him was pretty stringent.  A watering pot full of water he found a very uncomfortable bundle to carry on horseback; he was bound to ride at the gentlest of paces, or inflict an involuntary cold bath upon himself every other step.  Much marvelling at the arrangement which made a carriage and horses needful to move a rose bush, Lewis followed as gently as he could the progress of his little mistress’s pony chaise; which was much swifter than he liked