th horror, throwing back his head with a sudden thought. "Why in
goodness when I got your note didn't I for once in my life do something
really graceful? I simply liked it and answered it. Here I am. But I've
brought nothing. I haven't even brought a box of sweets. I'm not a man
of the world."

"Most of the flowers here," Nanda at last said, "come from Mr. Longdon.
Don't you remember his garden?"

Vanderbank, in quick response, called it up. "Dear yes--wasn't it
charming? And that morning you and I spent there"--he was so careful to
be easy about it--"talking under the trees."

"You had gone out to be quiet and read--!"

"And you came out to look after me. Well, I remember," Van went on,
"that we had some good talk."

The talk, Nanda's face implied, had become dim to her; but there were
other things. "You know he's a great gardener--I mean really one of the
greatest. His garden's like a dinner in a house where the person--the
person of the house--thoroughly knows and cares."

"I see. And he sends you dishes from the table."

"Often--every week. It comes to the same thing--now that he's in town
his gardener does it."

"Charming of them both!" Vanderbank exclaimed. "But his gardener--that
extraordinarily tall fellow with the long red beard--was almost as nice
as himself. I had talks with HIM too and remember every word he said. I
remember he told me you asked questions that showed 'a deal of study.'
But I thought I had never seen all round such a charming lot of
people--I mean as those down there that our friend has got about him.
It's an awfully good note for a man, pleasant servants, I always think,
don't you? Mr. Longdon's--and quite without their saying anything; just
from the sort of type and manner they had--struck me as a kind of chorus
of praise. The same with Mitchy's at Mertle, I remember," Van rambled
on. "Mitchy's the sort of chap who might have awful ones, but I
recollect telling him that one quite felt as if it were with THEM one
had come to stay. Good note, good note," he cheerfully repeated. "I'm
bound to say, you know," he continued in this key, "that you've a jolly
sense for getting in with people who make you comfortable. Then, by the
way, he's still in town?"

Nanda waited. "Do you mean Mr. Mitchy?"

"Oh HE is, I know--I met them two nights ago; and by the way
again--don't let me forget--I want to speak to you about his wife. But
I've not seen, do you know? Mr. Longdon--which is really too