Miss Jane Marple was sitting by the window. The window looked out onto her garden, which once filled her with pride. That was no longer the case. Now she looked out the window and grimaced. For quite some time, she had been forbidden from engaging intensively in gardening. She was not allowed to bend, dig, or plant – at most, she could do a little pruning. Old Laycock, who came three times a week, undoubtedly did the best he could. But the best, as it was (nothing special, really), was the best according to his own opinion, not according to that of his employer. Miss Marple knew very well what she wanted to be done, and when she wanted it, and gave him the appropriate instructions. Then old Laycock displayed his personal cunning, which dictated enthusiastic agreement followed by complete non-compliance.
“Exactly, madam. We’ll put the poppies here and the bluebells along the fence. As you wish, that will be the first thing I do next week.” Laycock’s excuses always made sense, and resembled very much those given by Captain George for not setting sail, in the book Three Men in a Boat. In the captain’s case, the wind was always blowing from the wrong direction, either towards the sea or towards the land, or it came from the unreliable West, or from the even more treacherous East. Laycock’s excuse was the weather. There was drought, there was humidity, it had rained a lot, there was frost in the air. Otherwise, something very important had to come first (usually related to cabbages or Brussels sprouts, of which he liked to grow excessive amounts).