Miss Lake laughed.
'I am very proud of it. They try not to blow, but I never let them alone till they do. See all my watering-pots, and pruning-scissors, my sticks, and bass-mat, and glass covers. Skill and industry conquer churlish nature—and this is my Versailles.'
'I don't believe in those sticks, and scissors, and watering-pots. You won't tell your secret; but I'm sure it's an influence—you smile and whisper to them.'
She smiled—without raising her eyes—on the flower she was tying up; and, indeed, it was such a smile as must have made it happy—and she said, gaily—
'You forget that Lord Chelford passes this way sometimes, and shines upon them, too.'
'No, he's a dull, earthly dog; and if he shines here, it is only in reflected light'
'Margery, child, fetch me the scissors.'
And a hobble-de-hoy of a girl, with round eyes, and a long white-apron, and bare arms, came down the little walk, and—eyeing the peer with an awful curiosity—presented the shears to the charming Atropos, who clipped off the withered blossoms that had bloomed their hour, and were to cumber the stalk no more.
'Now, you see what art may do; how passée this creature was till I made her toilet, and how wonderfully the poor old beauty looks now,' and she glanced complacently at the plant she had just trimmed.
'Well, it is young again and beautiful; but no—I have no faith in the scissors; I still believe in the influence—from the tips of your fingers, your looks, and tones. Flowers, like fairies, have their favourites, whom they smile on and obey; and I think this is a haunted glen—trees, flowers, all have an intelligence and a feeling—and I am sure you see wonderful things, by moonlight, from your window.'