never finished by which everything was to be watered at once by

means of pieces of gutter from the roof and outhouses of Number 2,

and a large and particularly obstinate clump of elder-bushes in the

abolished hedge that he had failed to destroy entirely either by axe

or by fire, combined to give the gardens under intensive culture a

singularly desolate and disorderly appearance. He took steps

towards the diversion of our house drain under theinfluence of the

Sewage Utilisation Society; buthappily he stopped in time. He

hardly completed any of the operations he began; something else

became more urgent or simply he tired; a considerable area of the

Number 2 territory was never even dug up.

In the end the affair irritated him beyond endurance. Never was a

man less horticulturally-minded. The clamour of these vegetables he

had launched into the world for his service and assistance, wore out

hispatience. He would walk into the garden thehappiest of men

after a day or so of disregard, talking to me of history perhaps or

social organisation, or summarising some book he had read. He

talked to me of anything that interested him, regardless of my

limitations. Then he would begin to note thegrowth of the weeds.

"This won't do," he would say and pull up a handful.

More weeding would follow and the talk would become fragmentary.

His hands would become earthy, his nails black, weeds would snap off

in his careless grip, leaving the roots behind. The world would

darken. He would look at his fingers with disgusted astonishment.

"CURSE these weeds!" he would say from his heart. His discourse was

at an end.

I havememories, too, of his sudden unexpected charges into the

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