It worried me so much at last, that I began to dream horrible dreams about Perronet having to go away because we hadn’t saved his tax-money.  And then I used to wake up and cry, till the pillow was so wet, I had to turn it.  The boys never seemed to mind, but then boys don’t think about things; so that I was quite surprised when one day I found Sandy alone in our field with Perronet in his arms, crying, and feeding him with cake; and I found he was crying about the tax-money.

I cannot bear to see boys cry.  I would much rather cry myself, and I begged Sandy to leave off, for I said I was quite determined to try and think of something.

It certainly was remarkable that the very next day should be the day when we heard about the flower-show.

It was in school—­the village school, for Mother could not afford to send us anywhere else—­and the schoolmaster rapped on his desk and said, “Silence, children!” and that at the agricultural show there was to be a flower-show this year, and that an old gentleman was going to give prizes to the school-children for window-plants and for the best arranged wild flowers.  There were to be nosegays and wreaths, and there was to be a first prize of five shillings, and a second prize of half-a-crown, for the best collection of wild flowers with the names put to them.

“The English names,” said the schoolmaster; “and there may be—­silence, children!—­there may be collections of ferns, or grasses, or mosses to compete, too, for the gentleman wishes to encourage a taste for natural history.”

And several of the village children said, “What’s that?” and I squeezed Sandy’s arm, who was sitting next to me, and whispered, “Five shillings!” and the schoolmaster said, “Silence, children!” and I thought I never should have finished my lessons that day for thinking of Perronet’s tax-money.

July is not at all a good month for wild flowers; May and June are far better.  However, the show was to be in the first week in July.

I said to the boys, “Look here:  I’ll do a collection of flowers.  I know the names, and I can print.  It’s no good two or three people muddling with arranging flowers; but; if you will get me what I want, I shall be very much obliged.  If either of you will make another collection, you know there are ten kinds of mosses by the brook; and we have names for them of our own, and they are English.  Perhaps they’ll do.  But everything must come out of Our Field.”

The boys agreed, and they were very good.  Richard made me a box, rather high at the back.  We put sand at the bottom and damped it, and then Feather Moss, lovely clumps of it, and into that I stuck the flowers.  They all came out of Our Field.  I like to see grass with flowers, and we had very pretty grasses, and between every bunch of flowers I put a bunch of grass of different kinds.  I got all the flowers and all the grasses ready first, and printed the names on pieces of cardboard to stick in with them, and then I arranged them by my eye, and Sandy handed me what I called for, for Richard was busy at the brook making a tray of mosses.