It was a small, dank
clearing, bounded on one side by a path, and on the other by thick
box-bushes, laurels, and other evergreens. The ground was almost bare of
grass and dark of aspect. Remains of rustic seats and an old and
corrugated oak post somewhere near the middle of the clearing had given
rise to Mr Anstruther's conjecture that a summer-house had once stood
there.
Clearly Collins had not been put in possession of his mistress's
intentions with regard to this plot of ground: and when he learnt them
from Mr Anstruther he displayed no enthusiasm.
'Of course I could clear them seats away soon enough,' he said. 'They
aren't no ornament to the place, Mr Anstruther, and rotten too. Look
'ere, sir,'--and he broke off a large piece--'rotten right through. Yes,
clear them away, to be sure we can do that.'
'And the post,' said Mr Anstruther, 'that's got to go too.'
Collins advanced, and shook the post with both hands: then he rubbed his
chin.
'That's firm in the ground, that post is,' he said. 'That's been there a
number of years, Mr Anstruther. I doubt I shan't get that up not quite so
soon as what I can do with them seats.
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