Scene.—The Garden of a pretty Country Villa, The house is new, and the garden shows signs of having been recently laid out; the shrubs are small, and the few trees about are moderate in size; small creepers are trained against the house; an open country in the distance; a little bridge over a stream forms the entrance to the garden.
Wilcox is discovered seated on edge of garden wheelbarrow, preparing his “bass” for tying up plants; he rises and comes down with sycamore sapling in his hand; it is carefully done up in matting, and has a direction label attached to it.
Wil. (reading the label). “For Miss Northcott, with Mr. Spreadbrow’s kindest regards.” “Acer Pseudo Platanus.” Ay, Ay! sycamore, I suppose, though it ain’t genteel to say so. Humph! sycamores are common enough in these parts; there ain’t no call, as I can see, to send a hundred and twenty mile for one. Ah, Mr. Spreadbrow, no go—no go; it ain’t to be done with “Acer Pseudo Platanuses.” Miss Jenny’s sent better men nor you about their business afore this, and as you’re agoin’ about your’n of your own free will to-night, and a good long way too, why I says, no go, no go! If I know Miss Jenny, she’s a good long job, and you’ve set down looking at your work too long; and now that it’s come to going, you’ll need to hurry it; and Miss Jenny ain’t a job to be hurried over, bless her. Take another three months, and I don’t say there mightn’t be a chance for you; but it’ll take all that—ah, thank goodness, it’ll take all that!
Enter Jenny from behind the house, prepared for gardening.
Jen. Well, Wilcox, what have you got there? (He touches his forehead and gives her the sycamore.) Not my sycamore?
Wil. Yes, miss; Mr. Spreadbrow left it last night as the mail passed.
Jen. Then he’s returned already? Why, he was not expected for a week, at least.
Wil. He returned quite sudden last night, and left this here plant, with a message that he would call at twelve o’clock to-day, miss.
Jen. I shall be very glad to see him. So this is really a shoot of the dear old tree!