This was the time in the ideal gardens told of in my precious books when the busy garden boy rolls his clanking watering-tank, unfurls the sinuous hose, and from morning to night supplies the thirsting flowers.
In the Master's garden there was no lack, and his long tubes were even emptying themselves, reckless extravagance! on the velvety lawn.
But for me, oh, lack-a-day! The ground felt like hot dust, the seedlings drooped, and the Others told me not to pray for rain as they were doing the opposite, lawn tennis being in full swing.
We had a rain-water tank, and in the stables water was laid on, but it was a far cry from the stables to the garden, especially the kitchen garden, and old Griggs was a slow mover. The watering-tank groaned its way, but only the two most important beds got their daily draught. They were beginning to turn yellow in an encouraging fashion, but it takes some time for the eight inches apart to fill up and become the mass of colour dreamt of.
Then I disorganised the domestic economy by insisting on the contents of the household baths finding their way down to my rose bushes. At first the housemaids liked the little jaunt, but soon there were complaints of "'indering me getting on with my work, miss," and I began to inspect possibilities of converging drain-pipes and establishing receptive barrels; also I gave his Reverence small peace in those days in my desire for a further laying on of water to the kitchen garden and some yards of hose, but he said that these were big undertakings, he must think, etc., and for that hot, dry summer we got no further than thoughts.
Griggs hated me worse than ever, an unavoidable evil. We had one pitched battle, and though it did some little good, the spirit of a defeated foe is not one easy to work with.
In the dark winter evenings Griggs seeks his fireside as the light fails, or even before if it suits him. Against this I have nothing to say, but when the long days come with their need for more gardening care, I object to the early tea-time departure.
I found my precious seedlings drooping and Griggs ready to depart for his tea.
I love my own tea, so a fellow-feeling made me kind.