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In the orchard were several trees of the bellflower variety, whose branches sagged near to the ground. Dick was going along very decorously and sedately, as if he were studying the golden text or something equally absorbing, when, all at once, some spirit of mischief seemed to possess him and away he bolted, willy-nilly, right under the low-hanging branches of one of those trees.
Then I'm going to plat that strip into town lots and put it on the market." He paused while her glance, returning from the desert, met his in a veiled side-look, and the flush of the bellflower again tinged his cheek. "I mean," he added, "I'd be mighty glad to let you in." The blue sparkles played under her lashes. "Thank you, it sounds like riches, but " She stopped, leaving the excuse unsaid.
"I would like awfully well to send you a box," he added, and the flush of his bellflower was reflected in his cheek. She gave him a swift upward glance and turned her face to the desert. "Thank you, but when one is traveling, it is hard to give a certain address." In the pause that followed, she glanced again and smiled.
Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came between half-past six and seven in the morning, and went immediately into the linen-room and began to work.
Here and there the little bag-like blossoms of the gerardia, or foxglove, are opening among the stems of the fading grass, and the white blossoms of the marsh bellflower, the midget member of the campanula family, are apparently as fresh and numerous as they were in early July. Water horehound has whitish whorls of tiny blossoms and prettily cut leaves, which are as interesting as the flowers.
The village, a large village, almost a small market town, was a few hundred yards off, and nestled round the church, a red brick church, which had become black with age. Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came between half past six and seven in the morning, and went immediately into the linen-room and began to work.
Since October it had been in the dark, cool storage-room, and Horace, like some old monkish connoisseur of wines who knows just when to bring up the bottles of a certain vintage, had chosen the exact moment in all the year when the vintage of the Bellflower was at its best.
Since then I have seen so many sinister things, which were either affecting or terrible, that I am astonished at not being able to pass a single day without the face of Mother Bellflower recurring to my mind's eye, just as I knew her formerly, now so long ago, when I was ten or twelve years old. She was an old seamstress, who came to my parents house once a week, every Thursday to mend the linen.
Her walk reminded one of a ship in a storm, and her head, which was always covered with an enormous white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her back, seemed to traverse the horizon from North to South and from South to North, at each limp. I adored Mother Bellflower. As soon as I was up I used to go into the linen-room, where I found her installed at work, with a foot-warmer under her feet.
Her walk reminded one of a storm, as she balanced herself at the same time, and her head, which was always covered with an enormous white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her back, seemed to traverse the horizon from North to South and from South to North, at each of her movements. I adored Mother Bellflower.
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