You see it's getting quite dry and dusty."
Bruno looked at me inquisitively, but he said nothing this time.
"Then after that," I went on, "the walks want sweeping a bit; and I
think you might cut down that tall nettle--it's so close to the garden
that it's quite in the way--"
"What is oo talking about?" Bruno impatiently interrupted me.
"All that won't vex her a bit!"
"Won't it?" I said, innocently. "Then, after that, suppose we put in
some of these coloured pebbles--just to mark the divisions between the
different kinds of flowers, you know. That'll have a very pretty
effect."
Bruno turned round and had another good stare at me. At last there
came an odd little twinkle into his eyes, and he said, with quite a new
meaning in his voice, "That'll do nicely. Let's put 'em in rows--
all the red together, and all the blue together. "
"That'll do capitally," I said; "and then--what kind of flowers does
Sylvie like best?"
Bruno had to put his thumb in his mouth and consider a little before he
could answer. "Violets," he said, at last.
"There's a beautiful bed of violets down by the brook--"
"Oh, let's fetch 'em!" cried Bruno, giving a little skip into the air.
"Here! Catch hold of my hand, and I'll help oo along. The grass is
rather thick down that way."
I couldn't help laughing at his having so entirely forgotten what a big
creature he was talking to. "No, not yet, Bruno," I said: "we must
consider what's the right thing to do first.
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