"'Splendid!' he cried. 'It's an ideal day, and I'm hungering for sunlight and beauty, and thirsting for the peace of ancient memories. And it will please my wife to know that I've taken you round. What do you say to going up the river first? There's a glorious reach beyond the bridge. And the sun's in the right position to give you the best view of the Cathedral.'
"'Nothing would please me better,' said I; and we set off at once toward the river.
"On passing a certain building he bade me carefully examine the roof, the form of which was remarkable. While I was engaged in so doing, unconscious for a moment of his presence, I suddenly seemed to hear him groan behind me; and turning round I saw that he was holding tight to the iron railings on the other side of the foot-walk, and swaying his body backward and forward, as though he were in pain.
"'Are you ill?' I asked, in some alarm.
"'Not at all. This is just my way of resting when I'm tired. Come along.'
"'That's a splendid lot of roses in your basket,' I said, as we took our places in the boat, he sculling and I steering. 'Frau Carl Druschki, unless I'm much mistaken.'
"'Yes. I grew them on my allotment. I'm taking them home to my wife.'
"For some time we talked roses. He had a theory of pruning, which differed from mine, and led to a good deal of argument. Finally, he dropped his sculls, and, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, drew on it the diagram of a rose-bush pruned according to his method. We had forgotten the Cathedral.
"I took his drawing and began to criticise. 'Oh!' he said, 'let's drop it. We're missing one of the noblest sights in England. Look at that!' And he pointed to the heights.
"As we dropped down the river half an hour later, my companion, who had been silent for some time, again broke out on the subject of roses. 'Rose-growing is a thing that takes time and patience and thought,' he said. 'More perhaps than it's worth. If it were not for my wife, I should give it up. She's desperately fond of roses.'