Not caring to listen, Vevi and Connie wandered off down the cinder path.
“Oh, see!” cried Vevi pointing ahead. “A little canal! The windmill must pump water from it to irrigate the tulip beds.”
The path which led to the canal went directly past the big windmill. Its great arms were covered with gray sailcloth which moved lazily in the light breeze. The big flaps swept low to the ground each time they revolved.
“The windmill has a little house!” Vevi declared. “That must be where the machinery is kept.”
“I’ve never been inside a real mill,” Connie remarked wistfully.
“Neither have I. I’d like to go in. Shall we?”
Connie held back. “I don’t think it would be polite, Vevi. We’re only half-way guests here on the farm. Mr. Van Der Lann didn’t even invite us. We just came with Mr. Piff.”
For awhile the children watched the mill, and then went on down to the canal. A little bridge of planks stretched across to the opposite side.
Both shores were lined with tulips, heavy with bud. All of the beds had been laid out in attractive patterns.
“My, it will be pretty here when the flowers bloom,” Vevi sighed. “No wonder Mr. Piff wants Mr. Van Der Lann to help with the flower show! This place would be a big attraction.”