“There’s no need to hurry,” said Betty. “I rather think I can take care of myself. Give me the watering-can. Sylvia, take the heather; and, Hetty—your face is perfectly scarlet, you have run so fast—you follow after with the spade.”
The little plots of ground which had been given over to the Vivian girls had been chosen by Mrs. Haddo on the edge of a wild, uncultivated piece of ground. The girls of Haddo Court were proud of this piece of land, which some of them—Margaret Grant, in particular—were fond of calling the “forest primeval.” But the Vivians, fresh from the wild Scotch moors, thought but poorly of the few acres of sparse grass and tangled weed and low under-growth. It was, however, on the very edge of this piece of land that the three little gardens were situated. Mrs. Haddo did nothing by halves; and already—wonderful to relate—the gardens had been marked out with stakes and pieces of stout string, and there was a small post planted at the edge of the center garden containing the words in white paint: The Vivians’ Private Gardens.
Even Betty laughed. “This is good!” she said. “Girls, that is quite a nice woman.”
The twins naturally acknowledged as very nice indeed any one whom Betty admired.
Betty here gave a profound sigh. “Come along; let’s be quick,” she said. “We’ll plant our heather in the very center of each plot. I’ll have the middle plot, of course, being the eldest. You, silly Sylvia, shall have the one on the left-hand side; and you, Het, the one on the right-hand side. I will plant my heather first.”
The others watched while Betty dug vigorously, and had soon made a hole large enough and soft enough to inclose the roots of the wild Scotch heather. She then gave her spade to Sylvia, who did likewise; then Hetty, in her turn, also planted a clump of heather. The contents of the watering-can was presently dispersed among the three clumps, and the girls turned back in the direction of the house.
“She is nice!” said Betty. “I will bring her here the first day she has a minute to spare and show her the heather. She said she knew all about Scotch heather, and loved it very much. I shouldn’t greatly mind, for my part, letting her know about the packet.”
“Oh, better not!” said Hester in a frightened tone. “Remember, she is not the only one in that huge prison of a house.” Here she pointed to the great mansion which constituted the vast edifice, Haddo Court. “She is by no means the only one,” continued Hester. “If she were, I could be happy here.”
“You are right, Het; you are quite a wise, small girl,” said Betty. “Oh, dear,” she added, “how I hate those monstrous houses! What would not I give to be back in the little, white stone house at Craigie Muir!”
“And with darling Jean and dearest old Donald!” exclaimed Sylvia.