'Nigh on a quarter o' an hour, Miss Amabel. They was for going out at the gate, but I 'ticed 'em in to my place.'
'Much obliged to you. Now, chicks, remember this, you're never to go outside those gates alone. Come back to the house with me, and say good-bye to Bob.'
Olive lifted up her little face to be kissed by the old man, and Roland held out his hand.
'Good-bye, Mr. Bob. We will come and see you again, and you will tell us about your ugly pots.'
Then as they walked up the avenue by the side of their aunt, Roland said to her, pointing to the leafless trees above them,—
'We don't have ugly trees like that in India. Why don't you cut them all down? They're quite dead, aren't they?'
'No, indeed,' replied Miss Amabel briskly; 'they'll all come to life again next spring.'
'Is spring Easter that Mr. Bob was telling us about?'
'Yes, Easter comes in spring.'
'And does everything dead come to life in spring?'