More About Peggy

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  When Peggy had been staying a week at the vicarage, her parents camedown from town on a two days' visit, especially arranged to give them anopportunity of looking over Yew Hedge. Colonel Saville's scant supplyof patience was fast giving out beneath the strain of disappointment,and he declared his intention of buying the first habitable house hesaw, while his wife and daughter were reluctantly forced to theconclusion that it was impossible to procure an ancestral estate at theprice of a suburban villa. Yew Hedge, therefore, appeared the refuge ofthe destitute, and a fly being hired from the village inn, and MrsAsplin invited to take the fourth seat, the little party drove off toinspect the house in mingled hope and fear.

  The thick hedge which gave the name to the house skirted the countryroad for some hundreds of yards, while a carriage drive of commonplacepropriety led up to a square stone house, which could by no possibilityhave been termed either beautiful or picturesque. Mrs Saville's facefell into an expression of martyr-like despair, and the colonel lookedfierce and frowning; but, like many good things, and people also, YewHedge showed its worst points on the surface, and modestly hid itsVirtues out of sight. There was a large flower and vegetable gardenbehind the house, the entrance hall was roomy with an old-fashionedfireplace in the corner, the drawing-room contained an abundance ofthose nooks and corners beloved of modern decorators, and Peggy fairlycapered about with exultation when she entered the dining-room andbeheld panelled oak walls and a frescoed ceiling.

  "Father, it's settled! We take this house on the spot. These wallsdecide it. Think how inspiring it will be to live our lives against abackground of carved oak!" she cried in a rapture, and the coloneltugged at his moustache with a smile of complacent satisfaction.

  "Looks about right, Peg, doesn't it? That Indian furniture would lookwell in here, and the old delf. We'll put all the delf here, I fancy,and--"

  "And have blue walls in the drawing-room--blue paper and white wood, anda touch of yellow in the draperies. I saw some brocade at Liberty'swhich would be the very thing!" chimed in his wife, while Mrs Asplingasped and looked askance at the extraordinary trio who began to discussthe furnishings of a house before they had even ascended the staircase.She coughed in a deprecatory manner, and said:

  "The reception rooms are certainly fine--they have always beenconsidered the strong point of the house, but the bedroom accommodationis not nearly so good. There are fewer rooms than you would expect, andthey are mostly small. I'm afraid you will be disappointed when you seethem."

  "If there are three or four decent rooms, that is all we need. I wantmy home for myself, and not for a crowd of visitors. One spare room, ortwo at most, is all I would have furnished if there were a dozen empty.Give me retirement and a quiet home life!" cried the colonel, whereathis wife and daughter exchanged glances of amusement, for if ever therelived a man who adored his fellow-creatures, and delighted in crowdinghis house from floor to ceiling with unexpected guests, that man wasColonel Saville, and would be until his death.

  Mrs Asplin understood the meaning of that glance, and giving up thecolonel as a hopeless case, addressed herself instead to his wife.

  "And I am afraid the pantry is poor, and the scullery also. Mrs Selbyused to complain of them and of the lack of conveniences. There are nocupboards, and the--"

  It was of no use. Mrs Saville was as intractable as her husband, andrefused to listen to any warning.

  "Dear Mrs Asplin," she said sweetly, "I don't know anything aboutcupboards. We never worried about these things in India; the servantsmanaged somehow, and I presume they can manage here. The entertainingrooms are large enough to take in our furniture, and Peggy likes them.Those are the great points which we have to consider. If there areenough bedrooms to take us in, I think we shall be satisfied."

  This Saville trio was the most impracticable party of house-hunters whomthe vicar's wife had ever known, and she wondered no longer at thedifficulty they had experienced in finding a house to their taste, whenshe noted the spirit in which they surveyed the present premises. Aconvenience was not a convenience at all if it interfered with a fad orfancy, and a serious drawback was hailed with delight if it appeared inquaint or unexpected fashion. As a matter of fact, the purchase of thehouse had been a foregone conclusion, since the moment when Peggy hadbeheld the oak walls of the dining-room, and within twenty-four hoursfrom that moment it was a concluded fact.

  Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro, and endless journeys up totown, and interviews with obstinate decorators, who would insist onobtruding their own ideas, and battles waged with British workmen, whocould not understand why one shade of a colour was not as good asanother, or wherein lay the deadly necessity that they should match.Peggy put a penny in the slot and weighed herself on the machine at thestation every second or third day, to verify her statement that she waswasting to a shadow beneath the nervous strain. She was left at thevicarage in order to superintend the workmen, while Colonel and MrsSaville stayed in town to interview furniture dealers and upholsterers;and every morning she walked over to Yew Hedge and made a processionround the rooms, to note what progress had been made since the daybefore. Half-a-dozen men were at work, or, to be strictly accurate,were _engaged_ to work, at the house; but beyond the fact that it grewsteadily dirtier and dirtier, and that the splashes of whitewash andshavings of paper stretched further and further down the drive, it wasdifficult to see what progress was being made.

  Then Peggy made a desperate resolve, begged a bundle of sandwiches fromthe old cook, packed it with sundry other properties in a basket, andannounced her intention of spending the day at Yew Hedge, and keepingthe men up to their work by the influence of her presence. Mrs Asplinlaughed at the idea of their being awed by anything so small and dainty,but small as she was Miss Peggy had contrived to instil a very wholesomeawe of herself among the workmen. She never expressed open disapproval,and was invariably courteous in manner, but there was a sting in herstately speeches which made them wince, though they would have found itdifficult to explain the reason of their discomfiture. On the presentoccasion the usual group of idlers was discovered lazing in the hallwhen the little white figure appeared suddenly among them. They flushedand slouched away, but the young lady was all smiles and amiability.

  "Good-morning!" she cried. "I have brought my tools with me to-day, forI am going to stay and garden. If you can spare the time, I shall bemuch obliged if you will boil some water for me later on, but it will dowhen you make your own tea. Don't let me interrupt your work! I shallbe in the garden, if you want to consult me at any time, so we shall allbe busy together!"

  The abashed faces stared at her in a solid wall of discomfiture, andPeggy retreated hastily, and paused behind a harberry fence to have herlaugh out, before repairing to the shed where the gardening tools werestored. Then she unrolled an apron, tied it over her skirt, rolled upher sleeves to protect the starched little cuffs, took a rake in onehand and a hoe in the other, and surveyed the prospect. With ambitionuntempered by ignorance, she had openly avowed her intention ofpossessing the finest flowers in the county, and giving an object-lessonin gardening to ignorant professors of the art, so that it was more thantime to begin preparation.

  "The finest garden in the county!" Even allowing for the prejudices ofpossession, it was impossible to bestow such a title upon Yew Hedge inits present unkempt condition. The house had been unlet for two years,during which time the grass had grown coarse and rank, wallflowers andforget-me-nots were dying a lingering death in the borders, and nothingwas coming on to take their place. It was not the first time that Peggyhad given her mind to this subject, but so far she had not succeeded infinding a solution of the difficulty, nor had the suggestion of thevillage gardener met with her approval.

  "It's bedding-out as you want," he had explained. "You must bed out.That's the tastiest thing for those 'ere round beds, and the tidiesttoo. They last well on into the autumn, if it comes in no sharp frosts.There's noth
ing like them for lasting!"

  "Like _what_? Do you mean geraniums?"

  "Ay, geraniums for sure, and calcies, and lobelias, and a nice littlehedge of pyrethrum. Can't do better than that, can yer? Geraniums inthe centre,"--he drew a circle on the ground with the end of his stick,and prodded little holes here and there to illustrate his plan. "A nicepatch of red, then comes yellar, then the blue, then the green. Incircles or in rows, according as you please."

  "I seem to have seen it somewhere! I have certainly seen it," musedPeggy solemnly, so solemnly, that the poor man took her words in goodfaith, and looked at her with wondering pity.

  "I should say you 'ad! You couldn't travel far without seein' of 'em inthe summer time. There's nuthin' else to see in a manner of speaking,for they all 'as 'em. 'Igh and low, gentle and simple."

  "Then I won't!" quoth Peggy unexpectedly. "Henceforth, Bevan, whensightseers come to the neighbourhood, send them up to Yew Hedge toinspect the one garden in England which does not go in for bedding-out!If I want fireworks, I'll have them in gunpowder on the fifth ofNovember, but not in flowers if I know it! It's an insult to Nature torule a garden in lines and transform a bed into a mathematical figure!"

  The old gardener looked at her more in sorrow than in anger, and shookhis head dejectedly as he went back to his work. He had the gravestdoubts about the sanity of a young lady who objected to "bedding-out;"but if Peggy gained no approval from him for her new-fangled notions,she reaped her reward in Rob's unaffected delight, when the conversationwas detailed for his benefit.

  "Bravo, Mariquita!" he cried. "I recognise in you the instinct of thetrue gardener--a rare thing, let me tell you, to find in a woman. Womenlike show and colour, a big effect, rather than interesting detail, butI'm thankful to find you are an exception. Come over to-morrow and see_my_ garden! I keep a corner for myself at the end of the shrubbery,and forbid any of the men to touch it, and I flatter myself I have sometreasures you won't find in any other garden in England. I brought themhome from my travels, and have coaxed them to grow by looking after themmyself and studying their little ways. They need a lot of care, and getsulky if they are not humoured, but it's the whole interest of gardeningto master these little eccentricities."

  "Just my sentiments!" cried Peggy; but when in due time Rob escorted herto see his precious garden, her face was blank with disappointment. Twostraggling beds with a rockery filling up the corner, and scarcely agleam of colour from one end to another! That at least was the effectfrom a distance, but as the proprietor pointed out his treasures,insignificant little blossoms were distinguishable among the greenery,and flowers the size of a threepenny piece were produced proudly fromlurking-places and exhibited for admiration. They all came from someunheard-of spots at the other side of nowhere, had been reared withprodigious difficulty, and were of such rarity and value that the headsof public gardens had paid special pilgrimage to The Larches in order tobehold them. Peggy's eyebrows went up in a peak, and her facelengthened, but it was no use, she could not be enthusiastic, could noteven affect an interest in the struggling little lives.

  After exclaiming: "How strange!" "How odd!" and "Fancy that!" a dozentimes in succession, her very powers of exclamation seemed to depart,and she was reduced to sighs and grunts of response. In the middle ofthe history of a jungle plant which was the glory of the collection, Robsuddenly lifted his head and put a startling question:

  "Are you interested? Do you care to hear about it?"

  Peggy looked at him and made a little sign of apology.

  "Not--_much_, Rob! It's curious, of course, but very `niggly,' don'tyou think? It makes no effect at all in the bed."

  Rob rose from his knees, flicked the dust off his trousers, and clearedhis throat in that dry sepulchral manner which people adopt when theylong to say something sharp and cutting, but are too high-minded toallow themselves to do so. Then he pushed his cap back from his head,whistled three bars of a popular tune, and said politely:

  "There are some pink peonies coming out in the drive. Better come alongand see them."

  "Robert Darcy, I will--not--be--patronised!" cried Peggy, flashingindignant eyes upon him from the altitude of his highest waistcoatbutton. "Don't pink peony me, if you please! If it comes to a matterof taste, I prefer my own to yours. You have an interesting museum,sir, but, allow me to tell you, a most inadequate garden!"

  Then Rob was obliged to laugh, and in that laugh lost the last trace ofvexation.

  "Sorry, Peg! I'm a crusty beggar, but it's your own fault if I expectedtoo much. You were always so patient with my hobbies that I thought youwould be interested in this too. I'll do penance for baring you byhelping to arrange your garden in the way you _do_ like. We'll draw outour plans together, or rather you shall give the orders, and I'll do thework. Any leading ideas to offer?"

  "Harmony of colour, and sequence of effect. A constant succession offlowers, assorted as to size, and forming agreeable contrasts to theirneighbours. No red and magentas next door to each other in _my_ garden,thank you! Order in disorder, and every season well represented!"

  "I see," said Rob gravely. "It's an admirable idea, Mariquita,admirable! We'll set to work at once. By means of digging upeverything that is in the beds at present, working diligently, andwaiting until you are old and grey-headed, there is no reason why youshould not attain your ambition in the course of the next twenty years!"

  But Peggy had no intention of waiting twenty years, or twenty monthseither. Immediate effect was what she demanded, and she said as much toRob, and repeated the words with much emphasis, backing into a bed asshe spoke, and trampling some cherished seedlings to pieces with hersharp little heels, whereupon Rob hastily called her attention in anopposite direction, and promised meekly to further her desire.

  Not for worlds would she have acknowledged the fact to another, but asPeggy stood this afternoon surveying the empty beds before her, sundryprickings of conscience began to rise, lest perchance she had been toohasty in her decision to have naught to say to bedding-out plants.Something must be done, and that quickly, or she trembled to think whather friends and relatives would have to say upon the subject of the"finest garden in the county." With a vision of a prophetess she sawbefore her paths of green sward arched with roses, a lily garden, sweetand cool, and fragrant harmonies of colour massed against the trees; butthese were in the future, and in the present there were only empty beds,with little sprigs of green peering up here and there through the drycaked soil.

  "At least I can dig up the beds and get rid of the weeds, and thenperhaps for this summer only we might take refuge in geraniums andbegonias. Just for one summer, till something else will grow." Shesighed, and set to work with her spade, giving it a push into the groundwith her foot in professional style, and pausing to gasp and straightenher back between every second or third attempt. Astonishing what hardwork it was, and how hot one got all of a sudden! Peggy gathered theweeds together, moralised darkly on their number, and set to work on thesurrounding beds, digging so vigorously that in an hour's time she feltas if a week in bed would be barely sufficient to recoup her exhaustedenergies. Too weary to cross to a seat, she was holding on to herspade, and slowly straightening her back, when she became conscious thatthe foreman had approached from the house, and was regarding her withcurious eyes.

  "There's two pieces short of that there paper for the drawing-room," heannounced. "I thought fourteen pieces would ha' done it; but it's beena mistake, it seems. 'Ave to get it made, I suppose, to finish thecorner."

  "Oh, how dreadfully, dreadfully tiresome! We will have to wait weeksand weeks before we can get it, and it will keep everything back."

  Peggy wrung her tired hands and looked the image of despair.

  "You said that you were sure fourteen pieces would be enough; and wetold you at the time to be careful, as it had to be made!"

  "Ay, it do seem a pity, don't it? They rarely ever gets it the sameshade a second time," the man replie
d blandly. Then he jerked his thumbtowards the flower-beds, and put a deprecatory question: "Didn't youlike them, then? Wasn't they your fancy?"

  "I don't know what you are talking about. Was what my fancy?"

  "Those 'ere things as they put in yesterday. I thought, maybe, they wassomething special, from the care they took about 'em." He gave anexplanatory kick with his foot to the weeds piled up on the gravel path,and there was a pause of two whole minutes before a weak little voiceinquired faintly:

  "Who took such care? Who put them in? I don't understand."

  "The young master up at The Larches and one of his gardeners. They washere for a good two hours. We wondered to see you scratching them up.Joe says to me, he says, `Go down and tell her,' he says. `Oh,' I says,`she knows what she's about!' I says. `She's not the sort to do atrick like that,' I says."

  Peggy's lips positively ached with the effort of twisting them into asmile.

  "That was very kind of you," she said. "It would be a silly trick,would it not? Do you think you could boil the kettle for me now? Ifeel badly in need of some tea."