Cassy turned slowly, her eyes still lingering upon the borders.
“She’s wanted to see the inside of this place more’n anything,” Jerry confided to the gardener as Cassy’s steps lagged, “but the gate ain’t ever been open before.”
“Then I’m glad it happened to be this time when you were by,” said the gardener heartily. “Some day if you happen to see me when I’ve got time I’ll take you all over the garden.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you. I’d love that. Have you any morning-glories?”
The man laughed.
“No, pesky things; they grow so fast that they’d get the best of me in no time; though, now I think of it, there were some by the kitchen door last year. The cook planted them, and I guess they’ll come up again this summer too plentiful for my use. Do you like ’em, sis?”
“I never saw any,” Cassy told him. “But I want to.”
She turned away as the gardener made ready to shut the gate, and all the way home she had scarcely a word to say. “It was like the garden of Eden,” she said under her breath once.
“I think he might have given us some flowers,” said Jerry.
“Maybe he couldn’t,” returned Cassy. “They aren’t his. I think he was very good to let us go in. Oh, Jerry, how happy, how happy people must be who have a garden like that.”