THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



I want to run up the top of hills and shout because — 

 well, because I feel as if I had a right to shout when 

 the sun is shining." 



" I quite understand that," I said. 



" And then," he went on, and his face showed the 

 joy he felt, " everything is so wonderful. Look at 

 that village we came through : those people there feel 

 the same as you and me. They've got to express them- 

 selves somehow, so they grow flowers right out into 

 the road, just as a gift to you and me. A sort of some- 

 thing comes to them that they must have flowers at the 

 front door. Whenever I see a good garden, full of 

 Pinks and Roses and Larkspur, I get a bed at that 

 cottage, if I can. I've slept all over the place, all over 

 England, you might say ; and cheap, too." 



" That was a beautiful village, below there," I said. 



He nodded wisely. " Seems as if they'd decorated 

 the street on purpose to make the cottages look 

 as if they grew like the flowers. All the porches 

 covered with Honeysuckle and Roses, and ever- 

 lasting Peas, and flowers up against the windows. 

 I've a perfect craze for flowers — can't think where I 

 get it from." 



" You are the real gardener," said I. 



" I believe I am," he said. " And why I took to 

 tailoring beats me, now. My father was a butcher." 



I pointed over my shoulder towards the village. 

 " Do you live in a place like that ? " I asked. 



" Better than that," he answered proudly. " It 

 took me nearly two years to find the place my sister 

 and I had dreamed of. We wanted a cottage in a 

 county as much like a garden as possible. I found it — in 

 Devonshire ; my eye, it's a wonderful place, all orchards. 

 In the blossom time it looks like — well, as if it was 

 expecting somebody, it's so beautiful." 



30 



