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Suddenly there was a cry raised, and several slaves belonging to the inner household rushed into the outer house with glaring eyes, shouting that the English girl could not be found. "Not in de house?" cried Peter, starting up in wild excitement. "No nowhar in de house!" "To de gardin, quick!" shouted Peter, leading the way, while Ben-Ahmed himself, with undignified haste, joined in the pursuit.
"Her part o' the place? What you been an' cut it up this way for?" If Gardener Jim had ever heard of the feud that separated the two sisters he had apparently forgotten it, and Sophy, knowing his reputed state, felt no surprise. "She lives in t'other part o' the house," she vouchsafed cautiously. "Well," he grumbled, "that's no reason, as I see, why you should ha' gone an' sliced up the gardin."
Droid brought them two together Aw, come outside in the gardin where the moon's to the full, an' it's warm enough for anny man or woman that's got a warm heart, an' I'll tell you the story of Filion and Fiona. You'll not be forgettin' the names of them now, will ye? And while I'm tellin' you, all the time you'll be thinkin' of St. Droid, for it's his day. It was nothin' till him, St.
Droid, that he lived in a cave, you understan'? Wasn't his face like the sun comin' up over the lake at Ballinhoe in the month of June! Well, it doesn't matter if you've niver seen Ballinhoe you understan' what I mean. Well, then come out intil the gardin, darlins. Shure, I'm achin' to tell you the story as fine a love-story as iver was told to man and woman."
"You 'tend to it! you 'tend to it!" he cried testily. "I've got all I can do to git them Miller gals' pieces into shape so 't they can sow a few seeds." But one morning he sought out Wilfred, mending a gap in his own orchard wall by the road. "Wilfred," said Gardener Jim, "have you 'tended to Annie's gardin?" He had laid down his hoe and put up a foot on a stone in good position for talk.
Thar's the difference, that in the Gardin o' Eeden thar's but one woman spoken of; hyar thar's two, one o' which you yurself hev called a angel, an' ye hain't sayed anythin' beyont the downright truth. She air a angel, if iver thar was sech on airth.
She was sittin' on a bench in the gardin, lookin' in front of her and seein' nothin' but what was in her mind's eye, and who can tell what she would be seein'! There she sat sweet as a saint, very straight up, the palms of her hands laid on the bench on either side, as though they was supporfin' her like a statue she looked. I watched her manny a minute, but she niver moved.
She was sittin' on a bench in the gardin, lookin' in front of her and seein' nothin' but what was in her mind's eye, and who can tell what she would be seein'! There she sat sweet as a saint, very straight up, the palms of her hands laid on the bench on either side, as though they was supporfin' her like a statue she looked. I watched her manny a minute, but she niver moved.
And the story was to be, so the whisper went on, "the beautif'lest story, oh, you never did!" And its name was to be, what a faint and feeble reproduction of the old triumphant announcement of a new title! "The Posy Gardin' that the King Kep'." She never told us that story.
It made her mad and she wanted to show he could be a mister as well as anybody. She began on the third cookie. What else could she say to Aunt Hetty, who always wanted to know the news so? She brought out, "Well, I tell you, in the afternoon, when I get home, mostly old Mr. Welles is out in his garden." "Gardin!" cried Aunt Hetty. "Mercy on us, making garden the fore-part of April.
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