"Always some little thing to be done," he said with idiotic cheerfulness; "as George Herbert says, 'Who sweeps an Admiral's garden in Cornwall as for Thy laws makes that and the action fine.' And now," he added, suddenly slinging the broom away, "Let's go and water the flowers."
With the same mixed emotions they watched him uncoil some considerable lengths of the large garden hose, saying with an air of wistful discrimination: "The red tulips before the yellow, I think. Look a bit dry, don't you think?"
He turned the little tap on the instrument, and the water shot out straight and solid as a long rod of steel.
"Look out, Samson," cried Flambeau; "why, you've cut off the tulip's head."
Father Brown stood ruefully contemplating the decapitated plant.
"Mine does seem to be a rather kill
