The lower half was a vegetable garden arranged in squares with dwarf fruit-trees and flower-borders round them, like the borders round old-fashioned pocket-handkerchiefs. Then about half-way up the garden came steps—stone balustrades, a terrace, and beyond that a flower garden with smooth green turf paths, box-edged, a sundial in the middle, and in the flower-beds flowers—more flowers than I could give names to.
‘How perfectly perfect!’ Charlotte said.
‘I do wish I’d brought out my Language Of!’ said Caroline.
‘How awfully tidy everything is!’ said Charles in awe-struck tones.
It was.
There was nowhere an imperfect leaf, a deformed bud, or a misshapen flower. Every plant grew straight and strong, and with an extraordinary evenness.
‘They look like pictures of plants more than like real ones,’ said Caroline quite truly.
An old gardener was sweeping the terrace steps, and gave the children ‘Good morning.’
They gave it back, and stayed to watch him. It seemed polite to say something before turning away. So Caroline said: