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Updated: May 16, 2025
He was in the garden smelling the gillivers and looking at the plants, when the girl came out quickly to the heap of coal which stood by the fence. "I suppose these are cabbage-roses?" he said to her, pointing to the bushes along the fence. She looked at him with startled, big brown eyes. "I suppose they are cabbage-roses when they come out?" he said. "I don't know," she faltered.
Also, there were a few chill gillivers, in pale cold bud. Miriam wanted to lean over for some ivy, but he would not let her. Instead, she had to wait behind him, and take from him each spray as he gathered it and held it to her, each one separately, in the purest manner of chivalry. The tower seemed to rock in the wind.
Flush with the wood was the apple orchard, where blossom was falling on the grindstone. The pond was deep under a hedge and overhanging oak trees. Some cows stood in the shade. The farm and buildings, three sides of a quadrangle, embraced the sunshine towards the wood. It was very still. Mother and son went into the small railed garden, where was a scent of red gillivers.
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