“Oh, yes; of course we do! And I forgot they have to have sunshine.”
“Goosie!” cried Dick. “Now, I think a place near the pond would be nice, and then we can fetch water easily,—for I s’pose we have to water our flowers every day, don’t we, Pat?”
“Yes; onless it rains fer ye, which it sometimes do. Now, s’pose ye let me s’lect yer place, an’ then do ye pick out yer own choice o’ flowers.”
“Do,” cried Dolly. “You know so much better than we do where a garden ought to be.”
Pat considered carefully for a few moments, casting his eye thoughtfully toward various parts of the estate.
“Come on,” he said, at last, and the children followed him, as he strode off.
Just beyond the beautifully kept terrace was a stretch of lawn, entirely open to the sunlight, save for a big horse-chestnut tree in one corner.
Here Pat paused, and indicating by a sweep of his arm a section about seventy-five feet square, he said:
“I’m thinkin’, instead of only a garden, by itself, it’d be foine for ye to make yersilves a rale playground.”
Dolly’s quick mind jumped to the possibilities.