“This is luxury!” and Mr. Power sat down on the three-legged stool offered him, with a rhubarb leaf on his knee which Christie kept supplying with delicious mouthfuls.
MR. POWER AND CHRISTIE IN THE STRAWBERRY BED.
“Well, and how goes it? Are we still happy and contented here?” he asked.
“I feel as if I had been born again; as if this was a new heaven and a new earth, and every thing was as it should be,” answered Christie, with a look of perfect satisfaction in her face.
“That’s a pleasant hearing. Mrs. Sterling has been praising you, but I wanted to be sure you were as satisfied as she. And how does David wear? well, I hope.”
“Oh, yes, he is very good to me, and is teaching me to be a gardener, so that I needn’t kill myself with sewing any more. Much of this is fine work for women, and so healthy. Don’t I look a different creature from the ghost that came here three or four mouths ago?” and she turned her face for inspection like a child.
“Yes, David is a good gardener. I often send my sort of plants here, and he always makes them grow and blossom sooner or later,” answered Mr. Power, regarding her like a beneficent genie on a three-legged stool.
“You are the fresh air, and Mrs. Sterling is the quiet sunshine that does the work, I fancy. David only digs about the roots.”