OUR LADY OF ROSES 
We called her so to each other— -we, the old Rector’s 
motherless daughters, who were privileged to come and 
help her when, as sometimes happened, she gave school 
feasts and the children of the parish ran riot beneath the 
splendid old Elms and Beeches of the Court. We recalled 
how our father remembered her coming long ago as a fair 
and gracious young bride to the old red-brick house by the 
sleepy brown river to brighten with her fairy touch the dim 
old rooms and bring peace and plenty to the village ; how 
in poor years she had found work for the labourers by 
planning first a piece of clear ornamental water where 
whilome had been but a muddy brook. Then a Rosery 
was made in the grass lawns that stretched like a green 
mantle near the dark Cypress-tree walk, and amid Rose- 
hung arches tall white Madonna Lilies raised their stately 
heads. And year by year the garden grew in beauty by 
the sedgy lake with its Waterhens and Swans, the Poly- 
gonums and giant Burdocks she had planted grew tall and 
branching, and the starry Jasmine and Roses up the old 
house grew thicker. In the beds of the red-walled kitchen- 
garden she collected old-fashioned flowers — Cabbage-roses, 
Musk-roses, and the White Roses dear to Prince Charlie, 
scarlet Bergamot and Turncap Lily, blue Thistle and plume 
Poppy. Her fruit-trees on the walls were devastated by 
the many Squirrels who boldly climbed over and sampled 
the swelling Apricots unchecked by the Gardener, who dared 
not destroy the winning little thieves. Our Lady would 
not have them harmed. The Blackbirds nipped her Pinks, 
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