e this and he
sells heaps of flowers and fruit and vegetables to the hotel folks. He
thinks I'm an awful fool because I won't do the same. Well, he gets
money out of his garden and I get happiness out of mine. That's the
difference. S'posing I could make more money--what then? I'd only be
taking it from people that needed it more. There's enough for Tamzine
and me. As for Geordie Marr, there isn't a more unhappy creature on
God's earth--he's always stewing in a broth of trouble, poor man. O'
course, he brews up most of it for himself, but I reckon that doesn't
make it any easier to bear. Ever sit in a hop-vine arbour before,
master?"

I was to grow used to Abel's abrupt change of subject. I answered that
I never had.

"Great place for dreaming," said Abel complacently. "Being young, no
doubt, you dream a-plenty."

I answered hotly and bitterly that I had done with dreams.

"No, you haven't," said Abel meditatively. "You may _think_ you have.
What then? First thing you know you'll be dreaming again--thank the
Lord for it. I ain't going to ask you what's soured you on dreaming
just now. After awhile you'll begin again, especially if you come to
this garden as much as I hope you will. It's chockful of dreams--_any_
kind of dreams. You take your choice. Now, _I_ favour dreams of
adventures, if you'll believe it. I'm sixty-one and I never do anything
rasher than go out cod-fishing on a fine day, but I still lust after
adventures. Then I dream I'm an awful fellow--blood-thirsty."

I burst out laughing. Perhaps laughter was somewhat rare in that old
garden. Tamzine, who was weeding at the far end, lifted her head in a
startled fashion and walked past us into the house. She did not look
at us or speak to us. She was reputed to be abnormally shy. She was
very stout and wore a dress of bright red-and-white striped material.
Her face was round and blank, but her reddish hair was abundant and
beautiful. A huge, orange-coloured cat was at her heels; as she passed
us he bounded over to the arbour and sprang up on Abel's knee. He was
a gorgeous brute, with vivid green eyes, and immense white double
paws.

"Captain Kidd, Mr. Woodley." He introduced us as seriously as if the
cat had been a human being. Neither Captain Kidd nor I responded very
enthusiastically.

"You don't like cats, I reckon, master," said Abel, stroking the
Captain's velvet back. "I don't blame you. I was never fond of them
myself until I found the Captain.