“Oh, Mr. Haley, I do wish that we might!” Rosamond, the romantic, exclaimed. “I adore old places like this.”
A moment later they were drawing rein in front of an ivy-covered lodge-house near the great iron gates. A plump, pleasant-faced woman bustled out and admitted them. “You’ll find my man in the rose-garden,” Mrs. Diggitt said as she dropped a curtsy.
Following the path indicated, they soon came upon the gardener, who greeted them pleasantly and leaned on his hoe to talk to Mr. Haley.
“You keep everything in excellent condition, Mr. Diggitt,” the riding-master said, then he inquired, “Is it true that the owner, Mr. Ellsworth, has not been here in ten years?”
“Yes, it’s true,” the gardener replied, “and he may not come for another ten; there’s no way of telling. I never saw him myself, for I’ve only worked here this four year past, but the gardener before me said that the old gentleman was very hard to please, and if he should come, sudden-like, he would expect to find everything spick and span. Anyhow, I like to keep things up myself. Flowers are like children to me, and I don’t like to see them lookin’ neglected.”
“I have heard that Mr. Ellsworth is a crusty, overbearing old man and very difficult to deal with,” Mr. Haley said, then he added, “Mr. Diggitt, do you mind if these young ladies canter about the grounds? They will be careful to do no harm.”
The permission was granted and a moment later Adele and Gertrude were riding side by side toward a picturesque grouping of trees in the midst of which something white was gleaming.
“I think it is a marble statue,” Gertrude said.
“You are right!” Adele exclaimed as she drew rein. “How very beautiful it is and how lifelike! I do believe that a young girl posed for that statue.”
Gertrude was gazing admiringly at the sweet, chiseled face, and, after a moment of thoughtful silence, she said, “Della, it almost seems as though I had known some one whom that statue resembles, but of course I haven’t.”