Time was flowing swiftly past her. In three weeks he would be home!
And it was June.
At last Captain Brooke wrote to say that there was a question in the builder's mind respecting an additional support at a point where the thrust of the wall was greater than had been reckoned for. He added that the builder and the engineer were quarrelling about the Lee-Simmons man-holes. Moreover, the weathered tiles were beginning to arrive, and there was a question raised as to the condition of some of them. There was no doubt that her presence was necessary, and finally she went down, upon a day that focussed in its heart all the tender glories of an English summer.
The lilacs were fading now, but pink may and golden laburnum flaunted in beauty; and Melicent, as she cycled up the lane from the station, caught the intoxicating fragrance of syringa.
"What a garden this is! I believe it holds a bit of everything in the world that smells sweet!" she cried, as she greeted Mrs. Barrett. "It reminds me of the garden in Solomon's Song. How this sunshine does make the spices flow out!" As she spoke, she gathered a tiny spray of waxen syringa and a cluster of double pink may, like wee Banksia roses, and fastened them in her white gown. "After London, this is so wonderful!" she sighed.
"You look pale, miss. The fresh air'll set you up. The Captain was round this morning to know if you'd come. He seemed that disappointed not to find you. I expect now he'll think you're not coming down till to-morrow."
"Is he up at Lone Ash now, do you think?"
"I believe he will be, miss. Tommy, have you heard the Captain drive back, down the lane?"
No, Tommy had not; he was sure the Cap'n had not returned.
"I'll have a glass of milk now, please, Mrs. Barrett, and then go up and find him," said Melicent.