human
We are driven out of this in the depth of winter, said Mr. Hayes.
gpt
It is too cold--nothing seems to warm it, and it is such a terrible journey from the drawing-room fire. But till the bitter weather comes I like it, and I always come back as soon as the spring begins. We were here by March, weren't we, Barbara?
human
Mary, the currant jelly,
gpt
Why do you wear those white things--asters, are they not? They don't go well with your dress.
human
No, I know they don't, but I couldn't find anything better in the garden to-day.
gpt
It wouldn't have mattered what it was, Mr. Hayes persisted, with his head critically on one side.
human
Anything red or yellow--just a bit of colour, you know.
gpt
But that was exactly what I couldn't find. All the red and yellow things in the garden are dead.
human
Why not some of those scarlet hips you were gathering yesterday?
gpt
Oh! Those! exclaimed Barbara, looking hurriedly away from the scratch on the cheek nearest her, and then discovering that she had fixed her eyes on his wounded hand.
human
Do you think they would have done? Well, yes, I dare say they might.
gpt
I should think they would have done beautifully, but you know best. Perhaps you did not care for them? You threw them away?