The bailiff shook his head.
“Doctor Manning told me, ma’am, that he was afraid it was hopeless.”
“And I’m afraid so too,” said Mrs Mostyn, with a sigh.
“I can’t superintend the garden myself, ma’am.”
“No, Ellis, you have too much to do.”
“And gardens are gardens, ma’am—ours in particular.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Mostyn, who was thinking of the poor fellow lying at the bothy in darkness.
“And with all those glass-houses and their valuable contents, a day’s neglect is never recovered.”
“No, James Ellis.”
“The men, too, want some one over them whom they must obey.”