"You're going away, ain't you, Cobbs?" "Yes, sir." "Would you like
another situation, Cobbs?" "Well, sir, I shouldn't object, if it was a
good Inn." "Then, Cobbs," says he, "you shall be our Head Gardener when
we are married." And he tucks her, in her little sky-blue mantle, under
his arm, and walks away.

Boots could assure me that it was better than a picter, and equal to a
play, to see them babies, with their long, bright, curling hair, their
sparkling eyes, and their beautiful light tread, a rambling about the
garden, deep in love. Boots was of opinion that the birds believed they
was birds, and kept up with 'em, singing to please 'em. Sometimes they
would creep under the Tulip-tree, and would sit there with their arms
round one another's necks, and their soft cheeks touching, a reading
about the Prince and the Dragon, and the good and bad enchanters, and the
king's fair daughter. Sometimes he would hear them planning about having
a house in a forest, keeping bees and a cow, and living entirely on milk
and honey. Once he came upon them by the pond, and heard Master Harry
say, "Adorable Norah, kiss me, and say you love me to distraction, or
I'll jump in head-foremost." And Boots made no question he would have
done it if she hadn't complied. On the whole, Boots said it had a
tendency to make him feel as if he was in love himself--only he didn't
exactly know who with.

"Cobbs," said Master Harry, one evening, when Cobbs was watering the
flowers, "I am going on a visit, this present Midsummer, to my
grandmamma's at York."

"Are you indeed, sir? I hope you'll have a pleasant time. I am going
into Yorkshire, myself, when I leave here."