fancy, trying to find the answer.'
Next door, at Tullivers, Harold Shoosmith continued his assault on the neglected border. Some days had elapsed since his first visit, and on his second he was surprised to see that the narrow bed under the dining-room window had been planted with healthy wallflower plants.
'Your handiwork?' he asked.
'Yes. Are they put in properly? Not too close, are they?'
'No, they're just right. Very fine specimens too. They put my own to shame. Where did you buy them?'
'As a matter of fact,' said Phil, 'a sandy-haired man came to the door with them while you were in London. I can't remember his name - but he's often about. He helps old Piggott sometimes, I think.'
'Sam Curdle,' said Harold grimly.
Phil looked at him anxiously.
'Why, what's wrong?'
'What did he ask for them?'
'I paid him ten shillings for two dozen. Was that too much?'
'Much too much, my dear. Especially as he probably pinched them in the first place.'
'Damn!' said Phil softly, thrusting her hands into her coat pockets and surveying the border ruefully. 'I might have known. What shall I do? If these have been lifted from someone else's garden, they'll be furious.'
'Leave it to me,' replied Harold. 'I'll have a word with Sam Curdle. He's no business to charge more than two shillings a dozen anyway, and well he knows it. Don't have any dealing with that chap. You'll be done every time.'
'I'll watch him in future,' promised Phil. 'How I do hate to be fooled!'
'Who doesn't?' smiled Harold, moving off to his digging.
Sam Curdle's peccadillo, as it happened, had already been discovered. Percy Hodge had a farmer's sharp eye, and a pretty shrewd idea of how twelve dozen plants would look in the garden beds allotted to Sam's care. It did not take him long to discover that they were fairly sparsely planted. He confronted Sam the morning after the sheep sale.
Sam denied the charge.
'You be allus down on us Curdles,' he complained, a gypsy whine creeping into his voice. 'Every blessed plant as was outside your back door I planted, as God's my Saviour.'
'Fat lot of saving you'll get,' said Percy Hodge roundly. 'There's a good score or more plants missing, and I want them back. Understand?'
'How'm I to get 'em? I tell you, sir, they're all set in, as you can see.'
'You get them back, Curdle, or tell me what's happened to 'em. You can take yourself and your missus off my land if I don't get the rights of this business. You had fair warning when I let you come into the yard.'
'You be a hard man,' whimpered Sam. In truth, he was more frightened of his wife's reaction to the news than his master's threats. Bella could be ferocious in anger, and Sam still bore the scars of marital battle from earlier engagements with his wife.
At that moment, the telephone rang and Percy Hodge strode indoors to answer it, leaving Sam to his thoughts.
For the rest of that day, and the next, Sam puzzled over his problem. Not for a minute did he consider telling the truth. Such a straightforward course was completely foreign to Sam's devious temperament. Somehow he must slide out of this tangle of trouble and, more important still, without Bella finding out.
Fate was against him. Percy Hodge and Harold Shoosmith met on the evening of Harold's discovery at Tullivers. Both men were on their way to the post-box at the corner of Thrush Green. After the usual greetings, and comment on the weather, Harold came to the point.
'Is Sam Curdle still with you?'
'Yes, indeed, the rogue. But he'll not be with me much longer, I fancy. He's up to his old tricks. Pinching wallflower plants this time.'
'I'll show you where they are,' said Harold, and led the way across the road to Tullivers.
It was beginning to get dark, but the sturdy plants, so carefully put in by Phil, were clearly to be seen. The two men gazed at them over the gate.
'D'you know what he got for them?' asked Percy, turning away. The two men moved towards the green.
'He fleeced Mrs Prior of ten
Next door, at Tullivers, Harold Shoosmith continued his assault on the neglected border. Some days had elapsed since his first visit, and on his second he was surprised to see that the narrow bed under the dining-room window had been planted with healthy wallflower plants.
'Your handiwork?' he asked.
'Yes. Are they put in properly? Not too close, are they?'
'No, they're just right. Very fine specimens too. They put my own to shame. Where did you buy them?'
'As a matter of fact,' said Phil, 'a sandy-haired man came to the door with them while you were in London. I can't remember his name - but he's often about. He helps old Piggott sometimes, I think.'
'Sam Curdle,' said Harold grimly.
Phil looked at him anxiously.
'Why, what's wrong?'
'What did he ask for them?'
'I paid him ten shillings for two dozen. Was that too much?'
'Much too much, my dear. Especially as he probably pinched them in the first place.'
'Damn!' said Phil softly, thrusting her hands into her coat pockets and surveying the border ruefully. 'I might have known. What shall I do? If these have been lifted from someone else's garden, they'll be furious.'
'Leave it to me,' replied Harold. 'I'll have a word with Sam Curdle. He's no business to charge more than two shillings a dozen anyway, and well he knows it. Don't have any dealing with that chap. You'll be done every time.'
'I'll watch him in future,' promised Phil. 'How I do hate to be fooled!'
'Who doesn't?' smiled Harold, moving off to his digging.
Sam Curdle's peccadillo, as it happened, had already been discovered. Percy Hodge had a farmer's sharp eye, and a pretty shrewd idea of how twelve dozen plants would look in the garden beds allotted to Sam's care. It did not take him long to discover that they were fairly sparsely planted. He confronted Sam the morning after the sheep sale.
Sam denied the charge.
'You be allus down on us Curdles,' he complained, a gypsy whine creeping into his voice. 'Every blessed plant as was outside your back door I planted, as God's my Saviour.'
'Fat lot of saving you'll get,' said Percy Hodge roundly. 'There's a good score or more plants missing, and I want them back. Understand?'
'How'm I to get 'em? I tell you, sir, they're all set in, as you can see.'
'You get them back, Curdle, or tell me what's happened to 'em. You can take yourself and your missus off my land if I don't get the rights of this business. You had fair warning when I let you come into the yard.'
'You be a hard man,' whimpered Sam. In truth, he was more frightened of his wife's reaction to the news than his master's threats. Bella could be ferocious in anger, and Sam still bore the scars of marital battle from earlier engagements with his wife.
At that moment, the telephone rang and Percy Hodge strode indoors to answer it, leaving Sam to his thoughts.
For the rest of that day, and the next, Sam puzzled over his problem. Not for a minute did he consider telling the truth. Such a straightforward course was completely foreign to Sam's devious temperament. Somehow he must slide out of this tangle of trouble and, more important still, without Bella finding out.
Fate was against him. Percy Hodge and Harold Shoosmith met on the evening of Harold's discovery at Tullivers. Both men were on their way to the post-box at the corner of Thrush Green. After the usual greetings, and comment on the weather, Harold came to the point.
'Is Sam Curdle still with you?'
'Yes, indeed, the rogue. But he'll not be with me much longer, I fancy. He's up to his old tricks. Pinching wallflower plants this time.'
'I'll show you where they are,' said Harold, and led the way across the road to Tullivers.
It was beginning to get dark, but the sturdy plants, so carefully put in by Phil, were clearly to be seen. The two men gazed at them over the gate.
'D'you know what he got for them?' asked Percy, turning away. The two men moved towards the green.
'He fleeced Mrs Prior of ten
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