“Did not they expect us to dinner?” said I.
“Well, they did, and they did not, as I may say. Missus said to me the cold lamb would do well enough if you did not come; and if you did I was to put on a chicken and some bacon to boil; and I’ll go do it now, for it is hard to boil bacon enough.”
“And is Phillis gone, too?” Mr Holdsworth was making friends with Rover.
“No! She’s just somewhere about. I reckon you’ll find her in the kitchen-garden, getting peas.
“Let us go there,” said Holdsworth, suddenly leaving off his play with the dog. So I led the way into the kitchen-garden. It was in the first promise of a summer profuse in vegetables and fruits. Perhaps it was not so much cared for as other parts of the property; but it was more attended to than most kitchen-gardens belonging to farm-houses. There were borders of flowers along each side of the gravel walks; and there was an old sheltering wall on the north side covered with tolerably choice fruit-trees; there was a slope down to the fish-pond at the end, where there were great strawberry-beds; and raspberry-bushes and rose-bushes grew wherever there was a space; it seemed a chance which had been planted. Long rows of peas stretched at right angles from the main walk, and I saw Phillis stooping down among them, before she saw us. As soon as she heard our cranching steps on the gravel, she stood up, and shading her eyes from the sun, recognized us. She was quite still for a moment, and then came slowly towards us, blushing a little from evident shyness. I had never seen Phillis shy before.
“This is Mr Holdsworth, Phillis,” said I, as soon as I had shaken hands with her. She glanced up at him, and then looked down, more flushed than ever at his grand formality of taking his hat off and bowing; such manners had never been seen at Hope Farm before.
“Father and mother are out. They will be so sorry; you did not write, Paul, as you said you would.”
“It was my fault,” said Holdsworth, understanding what she meant as well as if she had put it more fully into words. “I have not yet given up all the privileges of an invalid; one of which is indecision. Last night, when your cousin asked me at what time we were to start, I really could not make up my mind.”
Phillis seemed as if she could not make up her mind as to what to do with us. I tried to help her,—
“Have you finished getting peas?” taking hold of the half-filled basket she was unconsciously holding in her hand; “or may we stay and help you?”