every kind of rose you can think of, except
modern ones. Then you can imagine the Vicarage garden at Haversham.

Not that all these flowers were out in August; indeed, the best of the
roses and all the carnations were over by then, but the garden was
still gay with lots of other kinds of flowers; and dear little twisting
paths led the way under shady nut-trees to the kitchen garden and
orchard, where apricots and plums turned golden and red in the
sunshine, and the apple-trees were so laden that it seemed quite
wonderful to think the branches did not break with the weight of the
fruit.

The summer holidays were half over now, and already Mother had begun to
look over the boys' socks and shirts for the next term at school, and
the girls had begun to talk seriously of the holiday tasks, which had
been lightheartedly put on one side when they first came home from
school with eight long weeks of idleness before them.

They were all having tea under the big ash-tree on the lawn one very
hot afternoon, when Philip announced a rather important piece of news.

"Haver Grange is let," he said.

"_Is_ it? Oh, Philip, how do you know? Who told you? Who has taken
it, and when are they coming?" asked the others.

For over twelve years now the old Grange had been empty--except for a
very deaf old man and his wife who lived there as caretakers. The
present owner liked better to travel about the world than to live
quietly in England, and his sons generally spent their holidays with
him abroad.

But although the same old board had stood beside the big iron gates
with "This House to be Let Furnished" written upon it in large white
letters, no one had come to live in it, and the children had grown to
look upon the Grange garden, with its moss-grown walks and weedy flower
beds, as their especial property.

"Mrs. Mills told me when I went to buy mother's stamps just now," said
the boy. "She said an Italian gentleman had taken it, or an Austrian
or a Frenchman--she didn't know which," and Philip laughed as he helped
himself to a piece of cake.

Just then the vicar turned in at the gate and crossed the lawn towards
them.

"Don't bother father with questions until he has had a cup of tea,"
said Mrs. Carew, and six eager faces were turned towards the vicar as,
with a sigh of relief, he seated himself under the shade of the tree.

"I think to-day is the hottest day we have had this year," he said, as
he took the cup Ruth hand