) Then I with difficulty unlatched the heavy gate leading into
the drive, and fastened it again with the scrupulous care of a
country squire's son. The grounds were exquisitely kept. Mr. Andrewes
was a first-rate gardener and a fair farmer. That neatness, without
which the brightest flowers will not "show themselves" (as gardeners
say), did full justice to every luxuriant shrub, and set off the pale,
delicately-beautiful border of snowdrops and crocuses which edged the
road, and the clumps of daffodil, polyanthus, and primrose flowers
dotted hither and thither. I was not surprised to hear the chorus of
birds above my head, for it was one of the parson's "oddities" that he
would have no birds shot on his premises.
When I came into the flower-garden, there was more exquisite neatness,
and more bright spring flowers, thinly scattered in comparison with
summer blossoms, but shining brightly against the rich dark mould. And
on the turf were lying gardening-tools, and busy among the tools and
flower-beds were two men--the Rev. Reginald Andrewes and his gardener.
It took me several seconds to distinguish master from man. They were
both in straw hats and shirt sleeves, but I recognised the parson by
his trousers.
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