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Updated: May 31, 2025
So as they went they found themselves laughing together and talking without restraint. They went through the flower and kitchen gardens; they saw the once fallen wall rebuilt now with the old brick; they visited the greenhouses and came upon Kedgers entranced with business, but enraptured at being called upon to show his treasures.
Upon the garden Betty's eyes dwelt, as she stood still for some minutes taking in their effect thoughtfully. Kedgers had certainly accomplished much. His close-trimmed lawns did him credit, his flower beds were flushed and azured, purpled and snowed with bloom. Sweet tall spires, hung with blue or white or rosy flower bells, lifted their heads above the colour of lower growths.
She had begun lightly, and then her voice had changed. It was very quiet at the end of her speaking. Mount Dunstan simply repeated her last words. "To what we cannot hear." "One feels it so much in a garden," she said. "I have never lived in a garden of my own. This is not mine, but I have been living in it with Kedgers.
They've not had to wait for rain, for we've given it to 'em from watering cans, and, thank goodness, the season's been kind to 'em." Betty, descending the terrace steps, wandered down the paths between the flower beds, glancing about her as she went. The air of neglect and desolation had been swept away. Buttle and Tim Soames had been given as many privileges as Kedgers.
"If you had men enough under you, and could order all you want," Miss Vanderpoel said tentatively, "you know what the place should be, no doubt." "That I do, miss," answered Kedgers, turning red with feeling. "Why, if the soil was well treated, anything would grow here. There's situations for everything.
And drew him on quickly almost as if she did not want him to hear what she had seemed listening for. When she left him and went back to the house, all the loveliness of spring, summer and autumn had been thought out and provided for. Kedgers stood on the path and looked after her until she passed through the terrace door. He chewed his lip uneasily.
She asked about the village and its resources, about labourers and their wages. "As if," commented Kedgers mentally, "she was what Sir Nigel is leastways what he'd ought to be an' ain't." She led the way back to the fallen wall and stood and looked at it. "It's a beautiful old wall," she said. "It should be rebuilt with the old brick. New would spoil it."
Kedgers, giving directions to some under gardeners who were clearing flower beds and preparing them for their winter rest, turned to meet her as she approached. To Kedgers the sight of her coming towards him on a garden path was a joyful thing.
I should like to see this one at its best." Leaving her with salutes of abject gratitude, Kedgers moved away bewildered. What man could believe it true? At three or four yards' distance he stopped and, turning, came back to touch his cap again. "You understand, miss," he said. "I wasn't even second or third under Mr. Timson. I'm not deceiving you, am I, miss?"
"In my ignorance I thought we must wait for blossoms until next year; but it appears that wonders can be brought all ready to bloom for one from nursery gardens, and can be made to grow with care and daring and passionate affection. I have seen Kedgers turn pale with anguish as he hung over a bed of transplanted things which seemed to droop too long.
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