An old-fashioned garden, bright with hollyhocks and all sorts of dear, homely flowers, a little square plot in the center, around which were stone seats, burst upon their view. All off in the distance were terraces and lawns, with all manner of splendid trees, and pleasant paths intersecting.
Miss Parrott’s long gaunt face drew up into a pleasant smile that seemed to say, “Good-by to your wrinkles.”
“Now run along, children, and enjoy yourselves,” she said. “You will be called when luncheon is ready. Be sure that you come in at once.”
“Polly,” said Davie in an awe-struck voice, “do you suppose the lady can come in here every time she wants to?”
“Of course,” said Polly, longing to hop up and down, but perhaps some one would see her and it wouldn’t be considered proper. “Why, she lives here, Davie.”
Davie drew a long breath. To live in this beautiful place and come out in this wonderful garden! He drew a long breath and stood quite still beside the green lattice door.
“Let’s go and sit down on one of those little stone seats,” said Polly.
So the children walked quite properly over and sat down on one of the seats in the little green square.
“Polly,” said Davie, “I very much wish that we could go over under those trees,” pointing to a bit of greensward where the noonday sun was making cool shadows.
“Why, we can,” said Polly; “Miss Parrott said we could run about and enjoy it all.” She got off from the little stone seat and held out her hand.