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"One of them nippers as is always stealing our fruit," continued Dan'l. "Why, Dexter," cried the doctor; "you there!" He stared wildly at the boy, who, with his legs kicking to and fro in the vinery in search of support, looked down from the roof of the building like a sculptured cherub, with arms instead of wings. "Yes, it's all right," said the boy coolly.
Barebone rode on, alone, through the deserted vineyards, of which the scent, like that of a vinery in colder lands, was heavy and damp. The road runs straight, from point to point, and there was no chance of missing the way or losing his companions. He was more concerned with watching the clouds, which were rising in dark towers against the western sky.
"What do you mean, Jeffcott?" she said, with a touch of sharpness. But Jeffcott backed out of the vinery and out of the discussion at the same moment. "You'll know what I mean one day, Miss Sylvia," he said darkly, "when you're married." "Silly old man!" said Sylvia, taking up the cluster of grapes for which she had come and departing in the opposite direction.
As to the apples, they grew by the bushel, almost by the ton; and for strawberries and the other lower fruits there was no such garden near. Then there was Helen's conservatory, always full of sweet-scented flowers, and the vinery and pits, where the great purple and amber bunches hung and ripened, and the long green cucumber and melon came in their good time.
She had not tasted one of them for five years, for during the war they had always been given to the patients in the Red Cross Hospital, but she could not forget their delicious flavor. Why had her father let the vinery with the house? The grapes ought to be hers to give away not this girl's. Nobody else in the room cared in the least where the fruit came from, so long as it was there.
"What a pity now as you couldn't take up with young Mr. Eversley or that Mr. Preston over the way, or or any of them young gents with a bit of property as might be judged suitable!" Sylvia's laugh rang through the vinery, a gay, infectious laugh. "Oh, really, Jeffcott! You talk as if I had only got to drop my handkerchief for the whole countryside to rush to pick it up!
A warm sweet-scented puff of air saluted me as I raised the copper latch of the door, and found myself in a great red-tiled vinery, with long canes trained from the rich soil at the roots straight up to the very ridge, while, with wonderful regularity, large bunches like inverted cones of great black grapes hung suspended from the tied-in twigs.
"Here, just you come down!" Directly after the doctor appeared in the study window, and, closely followed by Helen, hurried toward the front of the vinery, where the gardener stood. "Glad you've come, sir," said the old gardener, telling a tremendous fib. "Got one on 'em at last." "Got one of them?" cried the doctor. "Why " "O papa dear! look!" cried Helen.
The first thing I see as soon as I goes into the little vinery there was two big slates off the top o' the house, blowed off like leaves, to go right through the glass, and there they was sticking up edgeways in the vine border." "Well, only a job for the glazier," said Tom. "Strikes me there won't be glass enough left in the village to do all the mending.
Visited the Vinery of S. Van Renen & Co., High Constantia. Was well received, although the coachman drove us to the wrong place; and we handed him a letter addressed to a Mr. Colyin, a neighbor, thinking it to be his place. The grape season was over: wine had been all pressed and stowed away.
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