At this they laughed, Mr. Thomas Glynne the loudest of them all.
After breakfast Bertha said: “You must come with me, Mr. De Vinne, and see Guardy’s beautiful flowers. They say he has the finest greenhouses and the most beautiful conservatory in this part of England—some say, in all England.”
As they entered the conservatory, Bertha turned towards Jack and remarked: “I am sorry I cannot agree with you, Mr. De Vinne, but I wish very much that the sun was shining. Flowers never look so beautiful as when the sun falls upon them. They are always beautiful, but the sunlight makes them more so.”
They were alone and Jack grew venturesome.
“There is something else that the sun has the same effect upon,” he remarked.
“Why, what can that be?”
“A pretty girl,” answered Jack, with a laugh. “Especially if she has”—he hesitated, but decided to finish his speech—“especially if she has golden hair.”
Bertha avoided the compliment. “I have heard that it is still more effective when it falls upon a certain shade of red.”
“That may be so,” said Jack, “but my acquaintance is rather limited and I must confess I never knew a young lady with red hair.”
They walked about, Bertha extolling the beauty of the flowers and calling many of them by name.