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Updated: May 15, 2025
"It must be the greenhouse," he said. "I think I have seen the shorter one of those men helping the head gardener." "I tell you what! It's your turn now, because I heard them plan this. So you go camp at the flower-house by-en-by, and I will keep watch around the gates to see if they change their minds and go out." "What good will that be?" said his brother. "You didn't see either of their faces."
"Riding with the Colonel's daughter," the other laughed. "Trust the Wolf!" "As far as you can see him," said the other. "I have news," said the shorter man. "Meet me in the flower-house to-night at eight o'clock sharp." Porky was afraid to look up for fear they would take notice of him. He drummed on the counter, and called loudly for a cone. The men moved away. Porky looked cautiously after them.
They were all congregated for a while in one great flower-house, and Gertrude, finding herself near her sister, asked her how she liked it all. 'Oh! it is very beautiful, said Katie, 'only 'Only what, dear? 'Would you let me come with you a little while!
Get it off your chest!" he demanded. "Want to know what they call the guy that's riding with Miss Bright?" "DuChassis Captain," said Beany. "He's called the 'Wolf," said Porky. Even alone as they were, he lowered his tone. Beany sat suddenly erect. "What?" he said. "You heard me," said his brother. He rapidly repeated the conversation he had overheard. "Where is the flower-house?" asked Beany.
Three times he repeated the call that sounded like some night bird's song. Then, as they listened, it was repeated. It was a muffled sound, yet close. Once more Beany gave the signal, this time with a leaping heart, and the answer came clear and keen, as though a lid had been taken off. Beany ran in the direction of the sound. As he passed the flower-house, Porky hailed him. "Hey!" he said.
Bok did so, and there, sitting alone on one of the rustic benches in the flower-house, was a small, elderly woman. Keeping time with the first finger of her right hand, as if with a baton, she was slightly swaying her frail body as she sang, softly yet sweetly, Charles Wesley's hymn, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," and Sarah Flower Adams's "Nearer, My God, to Thee." But the singer was not a servant.
"No, but I saw their pants," said Porky. "I can look at all the legs, can't I? But they won't be there. I will watch to make sure; but they will be right where they said, over by the flower-house. See, they don't use any science. All they do is get in a crowd, or back up against a good high wall, and tell each other their real names. If we bring this across, I've a mind for us to be detectives."
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