A slender, thrifty young plant, with healthy
strong leaves and shoots, and at the top a bud shewing red and a half
opened sweet rose. Daisy was quite satisfied.
"Now where is it going, Miss Daisy?" Logan inquired.
"I am going to plant it out myself, Logan; it is going in a place--where
I want it."
"Surely! but does Miss Daisy know how to plant a rose tree?"
"Won't you tell me how, Logan?"
"Weel, Miss Daisy, there must be a hole dug for it, in the first place;
you must take a trowel and make a hole for it--But your dress will be
the waur!" he exclaimed, glancing at his little mistress's spotless
draperies.
"Never mind; only go on and tell me exactly how to manage, Logan."
"Does Miss Daisy intend to do it this afternoon?"
"Yes."
"Aweel, you must take a trowel and make a hole," said Logan, nipping off
some useless buds and shoots from the plants in his neighbourhood as he
was speaking--"and be sure your hole is deep as it should be; and make
the bottom soft with your trowel, or throw in a little earth, well
broken, for the roots to rest on"------
"How shall I know when my hole is deep enough?"
"Weel, Miss Daisy, it depends on the haighth of the roots--ye must even
try and see till ye get it deep enough; but whatever ye do, keep the
crown of the plant above ground."
"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.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164