“Margery dear, if Growler should get out of my bed and come on to yours, mind you kick him off, or he and Pincher will fight through the bed-clothes.”
But whether Pincher did snore, or Growler invade our bed, I slept much too soundly to be able to tell.
CHAPTER XXI.
GARDENING—DRINKINGS—THE MOORS—WADING—BATRACHOSPERMA—THE CHURCH—LITTLE MARGARET.
Both Eleanor and I were visited that night by dreams of terrible complications with the authorities at Bush House. It was a curious relief to us to wake to clear consciences and the absolute control of our own conduct for the day.
It took me several minutes fairly to wake up and realize my new position. The window being in the opposite direction (as regarded my bed) from that of our room at Miss Mulberry’s, the light puzzled me, and I lay blinking stupidly at a spray of ivy that had poked itself through the window as if for shelter from the sun, which was already blazing outside. Pincher brought me to my senses by washing my face with his tongue; which I took all the kindlier of him that he had been, of all the dear boys, the most doubtful about the calves of my legs the evening before.
As we dressed, I adopted Eleanor’s fashion of doing so on foot, that I might examine her room. As is the case with the “bowers” of most English country girls of her class, it was rich in those treasures which, like the advertised contents of lost pocket-books, are “of no value to any one but the owner.” Prints of sacred subjects in home-made frames, knick-knacks of motley variety, daguerreotypes and second-rate photographs of “the boys”—i. e. Clement and Jack—at different ages, and of “the dear boys” also. “All sorts of things!” as I exclaimed admiringly. But Eleanor threatened at last to fine me if I did not get dressed instead of staring about me, so we went down-stairs, and had breakfast with the dogs.
“The boys will be home soon,” said Eleanor, as we devoured certain plates of oatmeal porridge, which Keziah had provided, and which I tasted then for the first time. “I must get their gardens tidied up before they come. Shall you mind helping me, Margery?”
The idea delighted me, and after breakfast we tied on our hats, rummaged out some small tools from the porch, and made our way to the children’s gardens. They were at some little distance from the big flower-garden, and the path that led to them was heavily shaded by shrubbery on one side, and on the other by a hedge which, though “quickset” as a foundation, was now a mass of honeysuckle and everlasting peas. The scent was delicious.