And what sorts of bulbs were
there? I asked diplomatically; not myself knowing, to tell
truth, what bulbs were at all. Plenty of sorts, the florist
said; there were hyacinths — all colours — and tulips,
striped and plain, and very gay; and crocuses, those were of
nearly all colours too; and ranunculus, and anemones, and
snowdrops. Snowdrops were white; but of several of the other
kinds I could have every tint in the rainbow, both alone and
mixed. The florist stood waiting my pleasure, and nipped off a
dead leaf or two as he spoke, as if there was no hurry and I
could tale my time. I went into happy calculation, as to how
far my funds would reach; gave my orders, very slowly and very
carefully; and went away the owner of a nice little stock of
tulips, narcissus, crocuses, and above all, hyacinths. I chose
gay tints, and at the same time inexpensive kinds; so that my
stock was quite large enough for my purposes; it mattered
nothing to me whether a sweet double hyacinth was of a new or
an old kind, provided it was of first-rate quality; and I
confess it matters almost as little to me now.
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