"Oh, I don't mind," he said effusively. "So long as it's in your service."
Mary laughed and turned away. She always laughed at Lavery's ponderous gallantry. But under the sentimental surface that he presented to her there was another man, of whom she caught occasional glimpses that interested her. At present, however, she was vexed at his coming. She preferred to see Laurence alone, to break to him the news of his parent's reappearance. And what would Lavery, with his glossy freshness of apparel and man-of-the-world air, think of a shabby parent, suddenly produced? She didn't care, though, what Lavery thought, except that it might vex Laurence. She wished she had telegraphed him. She might send down to the office ... but no, he would be immersed in work, and only the more upset by it. She went slowly back into the garden, a favourite spot with her; it had been laid out years ago by her father, and he often came to help her with it.
Dr. Lowell had enjoyed having a good deal of money to spend on a garden. It was enclosed by a brick wall covered with creepers on two sides, the house on the third side, the other open, overlooking the lake. There were gravel-walks, white wooden benches and trellises, and in the centre, a sun-dial. The flower-beds had been touched by the frost; but still blooming were verbenas and many-coloured asters. The dead leaves had been raked up and smouldered here and there in blackened heaps, sending out a sweet pungent smoke. Mary, bare-headed, in a long black cloak, was down on her knees digging up bulbs when Lavery approached, freshly groomed and enveloped in a delicate scent of Florida-water.
"Let me do that," he urged, bending over her.
"What? In those immaculate clothes? You don't mean it."
"I do—I'll sacrifice the clothes. Please get up and let me dig the onions."
"Onions! These are very rare bulbs, of a Chinese lily—they have to be handled with great care and I always do it myself. So you may as well sit down there and smoke your cigar. Some people are made to be ornamental, you know, and others to be useful."
"And some are both," said Lavery, looking down on her heavy rippling hair. "And again, others are neither."
He seated himself rather sulkily on the bench near by.