miss--same as if I was Mr. Timson?"

"Yes. If you ever feel the need of a man like Timson, no doubt we can
find one. But you will not. You love the work too much."

Then still standing in the sunshine, on the weed-grown path, she
continued to talk to him. It revealed itself that she understood a good
deal. As he was to assume heavier responsibilities, he was to receive
higher wages. It was his experience which was to be considered, not his
years. This was a new point of view. The mere propeller of wheel-barrows
and digger of the soil--particularly after having been attacked by
rheumatism--depreciates in value after youth is past. Kedgers knew that
a Mr. Timson, with a regiment of under gardeners, and daily increasing
knowledge of his profession, could continue to direct, though years
rolled by. But to such fortune he had not dared to aspire.

One of the lodges might be put in order for him to live in. He might
have the hothouses to put in order, too; he might have implements,
plants, shrubs, even some of the newer books to consult. Kedgers' brain
reeled.

"You--think I am to be trusted, miss?" he said more than once. "You
think it would be all right? I wasn't even second or third under Mr.
Timson--but--if I say it as shouldn't--I never lost a chance of learning
things. I was just mad about it. T'aint only Liliums--Lord, I know 'em
all, as if they were my own children born an' bred--shrubs, coniferas,
herbaceous borders that bloom in succession. My word! what you can do
with just delphiniums an' campanula an' acquilegia an' poppies, everyday
things like them, that'll grow in any cottage garden, an' bulbs
an' annuals! Roses, miss--why, Mr. Timson had them in thickets--an'
carpets--an' clambering over trees and tumbling over walls in sheets an'
torrents--just know their ways an' what they want, an' they'll grow in
a riot. But they want feeding--feeding. A rose is a gross feeder. Feed
a Glory deejon, and watch over him, an' he'll cover a housetop an' give
you two bloomings."

"I have never lived in an English garden. 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?"

"You are to be trusted," said Miss Vand