“I see,” said Rob gravely. “It’s an admirable idea, Mariquita, admirable! We’ll set to work at once. By means of digging up everything that is in the beds at present, working diligently, and waiting until you are old and grey-headed, there is no reason why you should not attain your ambition in the course of the next twenty years!”
But Peggy had no intention of waiting twenty years, or twenty months either. Immediate effect was what she demanded, and she said as much to Rob, and repeated the words with much emphasis, backing into a bed as she spoke, and trampling some cherished seedlings to pieces with her sharp little heels, whereupon Rob hastily called her attention in an opposite direction, and promised meekly to further her desire.
Not for worlds would she have acknowledged the fact to another, but as Peggy stood this afternoon surveying the empty beds before her, sundry prickings of conscience began to rise, lest perchance she had been too hasty in her decision to have naught to say to bedding-out plants. Something must be done, and that quickly, or she trembled to think what her friends and relatives would have to say upon the subject of the “finest garden in the county.” With a vision of a prophetess she saw before her paths of green sward arched with roses, a lily garden, sweet and cool, and fragrant harmonies of colour massed against the trees; but these were in the future, and in the present there were only empty beds, with little sprigs of green peering up here and there through the dry caked soil.
“At least I can dig up the beds and get rid of the weeds, and then perhaps for this summer only we might take refuge in geraniums and begonias. Just for one summer, till something else will grow.” She sighed, and set to work with her spade, giving it a push into the ground with her foot in professional style, and pausing to gasp and straighten her back between every second or third attempt. Astonishing what hard work it was, and how hot one got all of a sudden! Peggy gathered the weeds together, moralised darkly on their number, and set to work on the surrounding beds, digging so vigorously that in an hour’s time she felt as if a week in bed would be barely sufficient to recoup her exhausted energies. Too weary to cross to a seat, she was holding on to her spade, and slowly straightening her back, when she became conscious that the foreman had approached from the house, and was regarding her with curious eyes.
“There’s two pieces short of that there paper for the drawing-room,” he announced. “I thought fourteen pieces would ha’ done it; but it’s been a mistake, it seems. ’Ave to get it made, I suppose, to finish the corner.”
“Oh, how dreadfully, dreadfully tiresome! We will have to wait weeks and weeks before we can get it, and it will keep everything back.”
Peggy wrung her tired hands and looked the image of despair.
“You said that you were sure fourteen pieces would be enough; and we told you at the time to be careful, as it had to be made!”
“Ay, it do seem a pity, don’t it? They rarely ever gets it the same shade a second time,” the man replied blandly. Then he jerked his thumb towards the flower-beds, and put a deprecatory question: “Didn’t you like them, then? Wasn’t they your fancy?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Was what my fancy?”