“Is it any trouble that I can help you out of?” asked Sir Robert, in the kindest tones, feeling, no doubt, as sorry as he looked. “Oh, my dear young lady, don’t give way like this!”
Touched by his sympathy, her heart seemed to open to him: perhaps she had need of finding consolation somewhere. Drying her tears, Anne told her story simply: commenting on it as she had commented to me.
“It is for my father’s sake that I grieve, sir; that I fear. I feel sure Mrs. Podd will not make him really happy.”
“Well, well, we must hope for the best,” spoke Sir Robert, who looked a little astonished at hearing the nature of the grievance, and perhaps thought Anne’s distress more exaggerated than it need have been. “Dr. Lewis wrote to me last night about some alteration he wants to make in the garden; I have come to speak to him about it.”
“Alteration in the garden!” mechanically repeated Anne. “I have heard nothing about it.”
He passed into the house to the doctor. We picked on at the currants, and then took them into the kitchen. Anne sat down on a chair to strip them from their stalks. Presently we saw Sir Robert and the doctor at one end of the garden, the latter drawing boundaries round a corner with his walking-stick.
“Oh, I know,” exclaimed Anne. “Yesterday Mrs. Podd suggested that a summer-house in that spot would be a delightful improvement. But I never, never could have supposed papa meant to act upon the suggestion.”
Just so. Dr. Lewis wished to erect a summer-house of wood and trellis-work, but had not liked to do it without first speaking to his landlord.
As the days went on, Anne grew to feel somewhat reassured. She was very busy, for all kinds of preparations had to be made in the house, and the wedding was to take place at once.