"Only think, what a funny idea!" said Theodore, with a merry laugh.
"All the world's the Lord's garden. He tends and cares for the trees, and the grass, and everything. You mind the lilies o' the field, Master Theodore, how He said they were finer than King Solomon in all his glory. You look at them crocuses now. Ain't they glorious? Bright as gold, and as smooth as satin. There's colour for you!"
But the child was not listening. He had darted off to meet his nurse, who was coming to seek him. She was a tall, plain woman of forty, neatly dressed in black. Jane Mugford was devoted to her little master, having been with him ever since his birth; and before that time she had been maid to the late Mrs. Barton.
Old John Bawdon nodded to her in friendly fashion; and she returned his greeting in cordial tones.
"Good afternoon, John. How well the garden looks, to be sure. I suppose you're tidying up a bit against the home-coming to-morrow?"
"Aye, aye, Jane. That's it."
"What changes time brings, doesn't it? It seems not so long ago—"
The woman paused abruptly with a glance at the child, but apparently, not interested in the conversation, he was watching a worm that was crawling across the pathway.
"Have you told him?" asked John, nodding his head towards the boy.
"Told him what?"