Mr. Sharpe took the children down between the houses to see the rows and rows of spring flowers and seedlings which were all coming on. He was very different to Foster. He loved children, and they all chattered away to him as if they had known him all their life.
By and by, he brought three very happy children back to their mother. Chris and Diana held fat packets in their hands. Noel had his in his pocket, but his blue eyes were shining mysteriously. They had each made their choice, and certainly Noel's choice seemed the strangest of all.
[CHAPTER III]
The Christmas Tree
Old Mr. Sharpe insisted upon the children coming into the cottage and having some refreshment. It was too early for tea, but he produced some home-made ginger beer, and some currant cake. His daughter, a sad-faced young woman, had traces of tears on her cheeks. She had been talking about the young husband killed in the war. But she smiled at the children's eagerness and enthusiasm for the garden.
"Oh, Mums, such rows and rows of daffodils and narcissus! Isn't it a pity it's too late to plant them now?"
"And, Mums, you should have seen the flowers in the hot-houses, but none of them will grow out of doors now!"
"And the little trees, all coming out in pink and white flowers!"
It was not until they were on the way home that Mrs. Inglefield was told of the purchases.
Diana had chosen nothing but flowers. She had a tiny rose tree coming up the next day to be placed in the middle of her bed.