Part 63 (2/2)
IV.-THE HERALD OF SUMMER
MISS MIDDLETON has a garden of which she is very proud. Miss Middleton's father says it belongs to him, and this idea is fostered to the extent that he is allowed to pay for the seeds and cuttings and things. He is also encouraged to order the men about. But I always think of it as Miss Middleton's garden, particularly when the afternoons are hot and I see nothing but grimy bricks out of my window. She knows all the flowers by name, which seems to me rather remarkable.
”I have come,” I announced, feeling that some excuse was necessary, ”to see the lobretias; don't say that they are out. I mean, of course, do say that they are out.”
”But I don't think we have any,” she said in surprise. ”I've never heard of them. What are they like?”
”They're just the ordinary sort of flower that people point to and say, 'That's a nice lobretia.' Dash it, you've got a garden, you ought to know.”
”I am afraid,” smiled Miss Middleton, ”that there isn't such a flower--not yet. Perhaps somebody will invent it now they've got the name.”
”Then I suppose I must go back to London,” I said, getting up.
”Bother.”
”Stay and inspect the meter,” pleaded Miss Middleton. ”Or ask father for a subscription for the band. Surely you can think of SOME excuse for being here.”
”I will stay,” I said, sitting down again, ”and talk to you. Between ourselves, it is one of the reasons why I came. I thought you might like to hear all the latest news. Er--we've started strawberries in London.”
Miss Middleton sighed and shook her head.
”But not here,” she said.
”I was afraid not, but I thought I'd remind you in case. Well, after all, what ARE strawberries? Let's talk about something else. Do you know that this is going to be the greatest season of history? I've got a free pa.s.s to the Earl's Court Exhibition, so I shall be right in the thick of it.”
”Oh, I thought last season was the great one.”
”It was spoilt by the Coronation, the papers say. You remember how busy we were at the Abbey; we hadn't time for anything else.”
”What else do the papers say? I seem to have missed them lately.
I've had a thousand things to do.”
”Well, the Sardine Defence League has just been formed. I think of putting up for it. I suppose you have to swear to do one kind action to a sardine everyday. Let's both join, and then we shall probably get a lot of invitations.”
”Do they have a tent at the Eton and Harrow match?” asked Miss Middleton anxiously.
”I will inquire. I wonder if there is a Vice-Presidency vacant. I should think a Vice-President of the Sardine Defence League could go anywhere.”
”V.P.S.D.L.,” said Miss Middleton thoughtfully. ”It would look splendid. I must remember to send you a postcard to-morrow.”
Tea came, and I put my deck-chair one rung up to meet it. It is difficult in a horizontal position to drink without spilling anything, and it looks so bad to go about covered with tea.
”This is very jolly,” I said. ”Do you know that my view during working hours consists of two broken windows and fifty square feet of brick? It's not enough. It's not what I call a vista. On fine days I have to go outside to see whether the sun is s.h.i.+ning.”
”You oughtn't to want to look out of the window when you're working.
You'll never be a Mayor.”
<script>