"
Miss Bartlett said that her duty lay in the dahlia bed, but when
she had exasperated every one, except Minnie, by a refusal, she
turned round and exasperated Minnie by an acceptance. As they
walked up the garden, the orange cactus fell, and Mr. Beebe's
last vision was of the garden-child clasping it like a lover, his
dark head buried in a wealth of blossom.
"It is terrible, this havoc among the flowers," he remarked.
"It is always terrible when the promise of months is destroyed in
a moment," enunciated Miss Bartlett.
"Perhaps we ought to send Miss Honeychurch down to her mother. Or
will she come with us?"
"I think we had better leave Lucy to herself, and to her own
pursuits."
"They're angry with Miss Honeychurch because she was late for
breakfast," whispered Minnie, "and Floyd has gone, and Mr. Vyse
has gone, and Freddy won't play with me. In fact, Uncle Arthur,
the house is not AT ALL what it was yesterday."
"Don't be a prig," said her Uncle Arthur. "Go and put on your
boots.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330