Wilfred took off his hat, to feel the air, and went forward toward her. He was not embarrassed. She seemed to him quite a different person from what she had before.
"I've just got it done," said he, with a perfect simplicity. "Don't it look nice?"
Lily had flushed, and, he thought with surprise, she looked almost angry. But she laughed with the same gay note.
"Been doin' it for Annie Darling?" she asked. "For darling Annie?"
"Yes," said Wilfred, "I've been doin' it for Annie."
"Mercy! how hot it is!" said Lily, "Seems if there wasn't a breath of air anywhere. I must get home and see if I can find me a fan."
She was rustling away, but Wilfred did not look after her. He was too busy.
When the weeds had all been carried away, he stood looking at the orderly garden with something like love for it in his heart. And then the gate clicked and Annie came in and up the path. There was a strange, wistful radiance in her face, as if she had chanced upon an undreamed-of joy. It was like the home-coming of a bride. Wilfred strode over the beds and put his arms about her.
"O Annie!" he said. "I'm glad you've come!"
At six o'clock they were still in the garden, talking, though she had opened the house, and the smoke was coming out of the chimney from the fire boiling the water for their tea. Gardener Jim, going home from his work, came up to the fence and leaned on it, eying the garden critically.