He
was so plainly amazed at the sight of her that she explained herself.
"Good-morning," she said. "I am her ladyship's sister, Miss Vanderpoel.
I came yesterday evening. I am looking over your gardens."
He touched his forehead again and looked round him. His manner was not
cheerful. He cast a troubled eye about him.
"They're not much to see, miss," he said. "They'd ought to be, but
they're not. Growing things has to be fed and took care of. A man and a
boy can't do it--nor yet four or five of 'em."
"How many ought there to be?" Betty inquired, with business-like
directness. It was not only the dew on the grass she had come out to
see.
"If there was eight or ten of us we might put it in order and keep it
that way. It's a big place, miss."
Betty looked about her as he had done, but with a less discouraged eye.
"It is a beautiful place, as well as a large one," she said. "I can see
that there ought to be more workers."
"There's no one," said the gardener, "as has as many enemies as a
gardener, an' as many things to fight. There's grubs an' there's
greenfly, an' there's drout', an' wet an' cold, an' mildew, an' there's
what the soil wants and starves without, an' if you haven't got it nor
yet hands an' feet an' tools enough, how's things to feed, an' fight an'
live--let alone bloom an' bear?"
"I don't know much about gardens," said Miss Vanderpoel, "but I can
understand that.
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