"Next year."
I laughed again.
"Well—what do you think about it?" said I. "Do you approve?"
"I shall be delighted. You must let me help you to make the garden. Only suggest—here and there. I know just what can be done with it."
"But do you really believe that I am going to take it?" I exclaimed.
"She says so. I suppose she knows what she's talking about."
"She said so—seriously?"
"Yes—quite."
Now what in the name of Heaven does she mean? She is not one of those women who talk for the sake of talking. I have been out with her on the cliffs when, for long stretches, she has been silent, and that, not for want of things to say, but because there have not been words good enough to say them with. Then what does she mean when she tells Cruikshank that next year I am going to take the cottage in the hollow?
"Don't say anything about that," he added. "I've just remembered that she told me I was not to breathe a word of it to you."