“Not necessarily. I think it is in about the proportion of four by five all right. Given that, size does not really matter for an unsophisticated game.”
To settle the point he began to pace the plot of ground, across and then lengthways. Next, apparently dissatisfied with this rough measurement, he applied himself to marking it off more exactly by means of his walking-stick. Elsie Bellmark was by no means dull but the action sprang so naturally from the conversation that it did not occur to her to look for any deeper motive.
“He has got a pair of field-glasses and is now at the window,” communicated Parkinson.
“I am going out of sight,” was the equally quiet response. “If he becomes more anxious tell me afterwards.”
“It is quite all right,” he reported, returning to Mrs Bellmark with the satisfaction of bringing agreeable news. “It should make a splendid little ground, but you may have to level up a few dips after the earth has set.”
A chance reference to the kitchen garden by the visitor took them to a more distant corner of the enclosure where the rear of Fountain Cottage cut off the view from the next house windows.
“We decided on this part for vegetables because it does not really belong to the garden proper,” she explained. “When they build farther on this side we shall have to give it up very soon. And it would be a pity if it was all in flowers.”
With the admirable spirit of the ordinary Englishwoman, she spoke of the future as if there was no cloud to obscure its prosperous course. She had frankly declared their position to her uncle’s best friend because in the circumstances it had seemed to be the simplest and most straightforward thing to do; beyond that, there was no need to whine about it.
“It is a large garden,” remarked Carrados. “And you really do all the work of it yourselves?”
“Yes; I think that is half the fun of a garden. Roy is out here early and late and he does all the hard work. But how did you know? Did uncle tell you?”