it, as he removed the ash, "that, but for Miss Vanderpoel and G. Selden,
we might never have had an opportunity of facing the fact that we may
not have been giving fair play. And one has prided one's self on one's
fair play."

CHAPTER XXX

A RETURN

At the close of a long, warm afternoon Betty Vanderpoel came out upon
the square stone terrace overlooking the gardens, and that part of
the park which, enclosing them, caused them, as they melted into its
greenness, to lose all limitations and appear to be only a more blooming
bit of the landscape.

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. Only the
fervent affection, the fasting and prayer of a Kedgers could have done
such wonders with new things and old. The old ones he had cherished and
allured into a renewal of existence--the new ones he had so coaxed out
of their earthen pots into the soil, luxuriously prepared for their
reception, and had afterwards so nourished and bedewed with soft
waterings, so supported, watched over and adored that they had been
almost unconscious of their transplanting. Without assistants he could
have done nothing, but he had been given a sufficient number of under
gardeners, and had even managed to inspire them with something of his
own ambition and solicitude. The result was before Betty's eyes in
an aspect which, to such as knew the gardens well,--the Dunholms, for
instance,--was astonishing in its success.

"I've had privileges, miss, and so have the flowers," Kedgers had said
warmly, when Miss Vanderpoel had reported to him, for his encouragement,
Dunholm Castle's praise. "Not one of 'em has ever had to wait for
his food and drink, nor to complain of his bed not being what he was
accustomed to. 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. The chief points impressed upo