"My father humoured me, and we drew near to the laurustinus hedge, and
looked over into the gay little garden. As we looked, we became
conscious of what appeared like a heap or bundle of clothing near one
of the beds, which, on lifting itself up, proved to be a tall slender
lady of middle age, who, with her dress tucked neatly round her, a big
print hood on her head, and a trowel in her hand, was busily
administering such tender little attentions as mothers will lavish on
their children, and garden lovers on their flowers. She was not alone
in the garden, as we soon perceived. A shorter and stouter and younger
lady sat knitting by the side of a gentleman in a garden-chair, who
from some defect in his sight, wore a large green shade, which hid the
greater part of his face. The shade was made of covered pasteboard,
and was large and round, and so very like a lamp shade, that I hardly
ever look at one of those modern round globe lamps, my dear, if it
has a green shade, without being reminded of old Mr. Brooke.

"'Was that his name?' Ida asked.

"'Yes, my dear; but that we did not know till afterwards. When the
good lady lifted herself up, she saw us, and seemed startled. My
father raised his hat, and apologized politely. 'My little girl was so
much taken with your carnations, madam,' he said, 'that we made bold
to come near enough to look at them, not knowing that any one was in
the garden.'

"She seemed rather flustered, but pushed back her hood, and made a
stiff little curtsey in answer to my father's bow, and murmured
something about our being welcome.

"'Would you care to have some, my dear?' she added, looking at me. I