They were of light blue ware, and looked nice enough on the dresser shelves. The grenadier stood at the table, chopping parsley on a trencher, and did not condescend to take any notice of us.
Out in the garden next, amidst the roses—which grew all round the house, clustering everywhere. They were of that species called the cabbage-rose: large, and fragrant, and most beautiful. It made me think of the Roses by Bendemeer’s stream.
“I should like the place of all things!” cried Tod, as we strolled towards the bay for a sail; and found Druff seated in his boat, smoking. “I say, Druff, do you know Captain Copperas? Get in, Johnny.”
“Lives next door to me, at Rose Lodge,” answered Druff.
“Next door! What, is that low whitewashed shanty your abode? How long has Copperas lived here?”
“A matter of some months,” said Druff. “He came in the spring.”
“Are they nice kind of people?”
“They be civil to me,” answered Druff. “Sent my old missis a bottle o’ wine in, and some hot broth t’ other day, when she was ill. The captain——”
A sudden lurch put a stop to the discourse, and in a few minutes we glided out of the bay, Tod sitting in a brown reverie, his gaze fixed on the land and on Rose Lodge.
“My mind’s made up, Johnny. I shall take the place.”