however, that, at the outset, Golding was
over-pleased to welcome a young man, who had been thrust upon him from
the unknown without so much as a by your leave to him. For the first week
or so, he eyed the cheerfully self-contained young gardener with
something very akin to suspicion, merely allotting to him the heavy and
commonplace tasks which Antony had foreseen as his.

Antony made no attempt to impress Golding with the fact that his
knowledge of fruit growing, if not of floriculture, was certainly on a
level with his own. It was mere chance that brought the fact to
light,--the question of a somewhat unusual blight that had appeared on a
fruit tree. Antony happened to be in the vicinity of the peach tree when
Golding was remarking on it to another gardener. Five minutes later, the
second gardener having departed, Antony approached Golding. He
respectfully mentioned the nature of the blight, and suggested a remedy.
It led to a conversation, in which Golding's eyes were very considerably
opened. He was not a man to continue to indulge in prejudice merely
because it had formerly existed in his mind. He realized all at once that
he had found a kindred spirit in Antony, and a kind of friendship between
the two, having its basis on horticulture, was the result. Not that he
showed him the smallest favouritism, however. That would have been
altogether outside his sense of the fitness of things.

There were moments when Antony found the situation extraordinarily
amusing. Leaning on his spade, he would look up from some freshly turned
patch of earth towards the old grey house, a light of humorous laughter
in his eyes. Virtually speaking the place was his own already. The months
ahead, till he should enter into possession, were but an accidental
interlude, in a manner of speaking. He was already planning a little
drama in his own mind. He saw himself sauntering into the garden one fine
morning, with Josephus at his heels.

"Ah, by the way, Golding," he would say, "I'm thinking we might have a
bed of cosmos in the southern corner of the Tangle Garden."

It would do as well as any other remark for a beginning, and he _would_
like a bed of cosmos. He could picture Golding's stare of dignified
amazement.

"Are you giving orders?" he could imagine his querying with dry sarcasm.

"If you don't mind," Antony heard himself answering. "Though if you
_have_ any objection to the cosmos--" And he would pause.

Golding would natura