"Oh, thank you," cried Diana, "but let's go to-day."
"Yes, don't let us wait," said Chris; "not a minute, as they might be growing."
Their mother laughed.
"Perhaps this afternoon I can manage it; but I have letters to write. It is mail day, and poor Daddy would be dreadfully disappointed if I didn't send him a letter."
"You can give him my big love," said Noel, "and tell him I'm going to be a church gardener."
"Are you?" said his mother, smiling at Diana and Chris, who always listened to Noel's statements with open eyes and mouths.
"Yes," nodded Noel, "I've just made it up, but I aren't going to tell nobody how I'll do it. It's a secret."
He would say no more, but pursed up his button of a mouth till it looked like a marble.
Then Mrs. Inglefield showed them the kitchen garden, and a shed in it where they might keep their gardening tools. An old man was in it, and Mrs. Inglefield spoke to him very pleasantly.
"Well, Foster, I see you have kept the garden in beautiful order," she said. "We're quite old friends. You were here before I went to India."