“We never catch a Maud. We want to say: ‘Come into the Garden, Maud’—either this nice old garden, or the Garden house—but no one turns up to fit! Come into the house, anyway. Mark is within three letters—two—of being Maud.”
And Win laid his hand on the lame lad’s shoulder, with great kindness underneath his nonsense, and bore him away in triumph. As he went the girls heard him saying: “We fit our Tennyson in one way: we’ve a rosebud garden of girls, three of ’em.”
“Take the dog around to Abbie, and ask her to feed her and make a place in the woodhouse for her to sleep. She must stay to-night, anyway,” said Mary. “Then hurry to get yourself ready for supper, Florimel; you’re covered with white hair and dogginess!”
“Good thing to be covered with,” said Florimel. “What’ll we call the dog, Janie?”
“I was thinking; Chum is a nice name for a dog,” said Jane.
“It’s a fine name!” cried Mary.
And Florimel saw that her dog was safe. “But I knew you’d love her, you darling things!” she cried, as she tore off, with her large and cheerful outcast rushing after her.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHO LOVES A GARDEN LOVES A GREENHOUSE, TOO”
“We call our house a greenhouse, though it is made of red brick, because it grew all the Gardens,” explained Mary, when Win brought their unexpected guest down to supper.