“Yes, and I am painting some of the pictures for it.”
“Are you now? I have a notion I should like that book. Aye, it should be a book!”
“The work of years.”
“Sure! None of your cheap popular sixpenny amateur stuff. It’ll be what you call ‘de lucks,’ won’t it? Such things cost money.”
Eve was silent a moment. The old man was genuine enough, and not touting.
“Perhaps Mr. Canterton would send you a copy. You would appreciate it. I’ll give him your name.”
“No, no, though I thank you, miss. A good tool is worth its money. I’m not a man to get a good thing for nothing. I reckon I’ll buy that there book.”
“It won’t be published for two or three years.”
“Oh, I’m in no hurry! I’m used to waiting for things to grow solid. Sapwood ain’t no use to anybody.”
Eve had a desire to see the hill garden by moonlight, and the head gardener was sympathetic.