Part 10
Then for the middle division I had some of my nurslings ready. More oriental poppies, in groups of three for the present; campanulas, also in threes, but with room for each one to expand; penstemons, but these were cuttings that had been given me, and though promised a place here they were kept for their first winter in the frame and only figured on my paper border. Gaillardias, most promising plants, which even in this their first year had given me one or two of their "effective" blooms, were placed singly; my small and not very satisfactory chrysanthemums were moved forward from the background, where they had been hidden. Michaelmas daisies also were in this division, and my Canterbury-bells and sweet-Williams, though they were not to be permanent plants, and might come out year by year when their duty was done. The doronicums were there and the bleeding heart, and old Lovell's two Turks' heads in sturdy independence, and I added a few clumps of crown imperials. Coreopsis, at five shillings a dozen, joined the show, and montbresias, those that were over from my new border, and in time gladiolas also I hoped, but I had to remember my limitations.
In front came groups of columbines and Iceland poppy, the small roots of campanula, the geum already there; and I collected from its scattered hiding-places all the Solomon's seal I could find, and grouped it behind the geums, for I noticed how well those two bore each other company. A few patches of Japanese irises I allowed myself, and again I tried the anemones. Neat labels marked the burying-places of those things that prefer to pass the winter with their heads underground.
I think that border, in spite of its many disadvantages, ought to make something of a show, not only on paper.
There are other things I hope to have in time for this my old-fashioned border. There is honesty, almost nicer in sound than in reality; and lavender must come here, or where will be the old fashion? Also the "Saracen-head thumping balls" of the purple thistle, and the blue-green sea-holly. Tritoma, called in the vulgar tongue "red poker," ought to have a place in the background. Then rocket, purple and white, is a neat, spikey little plant that should be represented, and I have no doubt that I shall be introduced to many more. If I love them at all, and if they can become at all reconciled to my soil, they shall find a home here.
Of course, with so many alterations to be made, and so many new-comers to be welcomed, I had again to break all rules and regulations belonging to a herbaceous border. Griggs and a spade, fatal things both of them, had to be tolerated, and roots disturbed, for in the spring my arrangements had been very happy-go-lucky. Now, armed with a certain amount of information, I hoped to settle things more permanently.
But when the length and depth of that border had been worked I felt that my life's task was finished, and I never went near it for three whole days.
* * * * *
My one and only frame presented a more cheering appearance than it had done the year before. It was a capacious frame, and possessed means for heating. This was often Griggs's one duty in the winter, and a grand excuse for not chopping wood. In the summer and autumn time an ignorant gardener can always account for himself with unnecessary lawn-mowing and diligent sweeping up of leaves that are instantly replaced by others; in the winter, unless snow provides a little gentle exercise, he is sore put to it to fill up his hours with a show of use. Thus the frame with its stoke-hole was a boon to Griggs, and I felt that I too should be much interested in its welfare this winter. For in their winter quarters were my hundred deep red "Henry Jacobys" and sundry other geranium cuttings far removed from Griggs's former favourites. Square wooden boxes held my young penstemons, a nice lot of tiny sprigs from the bluest of the lobelias, and three varieties of antirrhinum, also cuttings of yellow daisies and white. I was trying if cuttings from the not-successful violas would make better plants than those grown from seed, so there was one box devoted to these. A few pots held hyacinth bulbs and tulips, some choice arrangements that were to astonish the Others, coming in a time of dire scarcity.
Griggs looked in with something like pride gleaming in his old eyes. He always talked of "moi frame" and what he would allow me to put there. But we had no ructions, and I must only guard against his pride overflowing in too much water.
* * * * *
One day I took his Reverence's arm and led him round the garden. I steered him past the plantains, for he loves prodding at their stubborn roots, and I wanted his whole attention. I pointed out the present, I referred gracefully to the past, and I dilated on the future. "Now, sir, the year is nearly up, say, 'how has the garden grown?'"
"Grown! Why, you wicked girl! I believe you have prigged yet another border!"
"Oh! for those irises! Yes. I wasn't talking about that little path and that little border: they will look very nice there by-and-by. I was talking of the flowers."
And I led him away from that unlucky path and fixed him opposite my legitimate and much-developed border.
"It looks much neater, certainly. I wonder, now, have you let Griggs have any time for the vegetables lately?"
"Do you know, sir, the uninitiated might mistake you for a most cold-hearted and callous parent. If you lived up to the ideal, you would be saying beautiful things about my industry, and the conversion of wilderness into rose, and Griggs's, well, not _his_ conversion, but he has done more work this last year than for the twenty before. And you would be saying that the five pounds--"
"Ah! I thought we were coming to that. It's quite gone, I suppose?"
"Gone! Goodness me! and so has a good deal of its successor. But it is all right. I practically went the year round with that first fiver. All I am doing now is for next year, you see. I have drawn you up a statement of accounts and you will see that I even kept a little money for summer bulbs, though they can only come on next year. Which was generous of the first year to the second, you will perceive. But I wanted so many things that it was too late to buy last autumn or I did not know of them. And I have begged and borrowed as well as bought. Don't you think the garden has grown?"
"Yes, Mary, I really do; and I conclude from your having entered upon the second five pounds that you want it, and are not going to resign the situation."
"I don't think you can do without me."
And his Reverence said, after a moment,
"I don't want to try."
The little statement of accounts that I formally laid upon the study table was as follows:
Bulbs £2 0 0
Seeds £1 10 0
Odd Plants 0 3 6
Roses 0 13 6
Geranium Cuttings 0 6 0
Summer Bulbs 0 7 0
£5 0 0
His Reverence eyed it critically.
"How neatly it fits in. You have not been driven to arrange matters with the usual feminine etcetera."
"Because I have paid those etceteras myself."
"Really, but what were the etceteras? I thought they were always unknown quantities in ladies' accounts."
"That is one of the delusions of menkind. My etceteras were all the pennies paid for hampers coming and going, for labels, for scissors, three shillings those, without whose aid I could never have cut my way through the summer; they hold the flowers as you cut and save much backache. Then for sulphur, for quassia chips, for bast, for--"
"Hold! I will never ask what a woman's etcetera means again. I see it is much the most important part of the whole account. I wish they always paid it themselves. But why did you?"
"Oh, because, because five pounds is _so_ little, you can have no idea how little, to buy everything with."
"Yes, but you started away with the idea it was a great deal."
"I said I could put _some_ flowers in the garden with it anyway, and so I have. Even the Others allow that."
"Well, shall we say six pounds for this next year?"
"Will you really, sir? Oh, that is good! Now I shall go at once and order a pound's worth of peonies. There was such an enticing advertisement in this morning's _Standard_, and I have been resisting temptation, because I really had to buy herbaceous plants and a good many bulbs. They have made such a hole. But in time, you see, in time the garden will get quite full."
Yes, peonies with the delicious description of "blush rose," "deep carmine," "snowy queen" had held my thoughts for some time. That front border ought to be devoted to all varieties of flowering shrubs, and in time it should be. There was plenty of room for my peonies; so they were quickly ordered and the border made as good for them as I could manage. They like being well-treated. But when I thought of the watering next year my heart failed me. Something must be done.
That advertisement and the extra pound lured me on to further bulbs. Two hundred narcissi, mixed, and so cheap! only five shillings, were buried in the grass down the shrubbery side of the lawn. How cheering they would be in spring! A sweep of sweet nodding white and yellow.
"There is one thing you have utterly forgotten, Mary, and really no garden should be without them," said one of the Others.
"I know you are going to suggest some greenhouse nursling. Remember the frame is not a conservatory." And I hoped my bulbs were still a surprise.
"Oh, you old Solomon! And since when do lilies of the valley refuse to grow out of doors?"
"Lilies of the valley! Now, why didn't you speak sooner?"
"Is it too late? Why? You are still grubbing in things, aren't you?"
"I have shut the purse for the autumn. Honestly, I must keep the rest for the spring."
"Well, look here, don't be alarmed, we won't do it often, but I looked at your catalogue and saw they were six shillings a hundred, so 'we' give them on the condition we may pick them."
"I like you! Where don't you pick? All right, I will gratefully take the six shillings."
"A shady spot," I should have said a year ago, but no, not a bit of it, after my experiences with the violets. A narrow border near a little wall, but on which the sun did not flare continuously, and there we prepared the ground, though it seemed pretty good on its own account for a wonder; and the hundred fibrous roots were carefully spread out and covered over. I thought of young "Sandhurst." If I give him lilies of the valley for a button-hole he will think the garden is indeed growing. Though if the lilies should fail! But why should they? Griggs did not touch them.
* * * * *
Jim said,
"You are a fraud, Mary, that's what you are."
My thoughts flew to suggestions given for an essay on "The Heroic Qualities" which Jim and I had discussed with much energy. But it was not that.
"No, it was pretty footling, that essay, anyway; but the other fellows did just as badly. You promised me a go at tap-roots, and even old Griggs says we can't tackle them now. He says he thinks there are probably jolly long ones, and I do think you might have thought of it in time."
"I have been so busy, Jim, and it isn't my department proper. Let us bike over and ask the Master if it is too late. Griggs doesn't really know; he generally repeats what I tell him."
"He knows enough not to do things, does Griggs. I have found that out. He is a champion skulker."
Jim was very despondent, but a good spin along the hard road, with the bright sun that late autumn sometimes sees, raised his spirits.
The Master was in his garden, and oh! how neat and brushed up and ready for its sleeping-time looked his garden. Not empty or dead, but intentionally tucked up and ready for the snowy counterpane, and protected from the biting blast.
It was late, he said, but the weather still held up; we might try taking up one at a time and replacing it so that it should not take cold.
Jim took the directions with great attention.
"I am going to boss this, Mary; you said it wasn't your department."
The way he worked and ordered about Griggs and the coachman, summoned to give his unwilling help, promised well for his future as an admiral. The whole roots of the young pear tree were dug up with the greatest care; the tap-root, there it was sure enough, and all the vitality of the tree going gaily to swell its dimensions, was cut away, and then it was raised into a well-doctored hole, with a broad slab-like stone under it to cut short any further aspirations after such a root again, and all other branch roots carefully spread out to encourage growth and general productiveness.
Jim worked himself and his men, and also the Young Man, hard; I was an admiring onlooker until the operation was finished and the tree standing up quite firm again. Then, as Jim was bent on yet another, and refused to think it too late, I wandered down my lime-tree walk, where snowdrops were now hidden. I had collected ferns there and more primroses, and clumps of foxgloves on the sunniest side, just where they would catch the eye from the garden.
A feeling of peace was in the air; one bird dropped a note and another caught it up; not a ringing challenge of song, but a pleasant exchange of compliments. "Going strong?" "Oh, rather!" "Berries look well." "Prime!" "Good old world!" A squirrel frisked past up a tree with a look down at me, saying, "Ah! don't you wish you could do it!" and then off he went, terribly busy with his nut store. He and Griggs had had a race over the small walnuts which adorned one tree, and I think the squirrel could account for the better part. It was all right, all in order, this going to sleep time, this baring of boughs, decaying of vegetation, this "season of mists." A little while, only a little while and the change would begin; after sleep would come the great awakening. I picked a brown bud from the chestnut tree and cut it in half with my knife. There was the promise, the great life spirit already at work. Cushioned in the centre the embryo of the spiral-shaped bloom for May was to be plainly seen. The spring was preparing right through the winter. I heard Jim's voice, cheery and ringing, "Now then, you fellows, heave away! Oh, I say, Young Man, don't scoot just yet."
Steps rustled behind me, and as he joined me we walked on under the lime trees and I tried to talk of my garden, but he did not appear responsive; and finally, when I could walk no further, for I was wedged in the swing gate that opened on to the field he blocked the opening and said,
"I don't the least want to talk of the garden."
"Well, talk of this," I said, and gave him the chestnut twig I had broken off; "it is full of meaning."
"It is very bare and dead-looking."
"No. It is really full of life and hope. See its wonderful centre. There, I will open one to give you a parable from Nature. We need hope at this time of the year."
"I have been hoping so long," he would not be put off, "perhaps I am tired of mere hoping. I want to progress."
"Try faith then," I suggested.
His eyes held mine.
"There is one thing better than faith, you know." I suppose the wind was cold. I gave a little shiver and he placed his hand over mine.
Then I said, "I think faith ought to have its turn."
"What is faith in this instance?"
"Waiting, I should think," I answered slowly.
"But waiting with a knowledge of--"
"Ah! I must teach you another parable, I see. When the seed is sown in the ground we have to wait for it to spring up; it has to grow, to grow underground quite a long while before it comes to the light. It is not good to uncover it before it naturally springs up."
"Can I be sure the seed is there?" he asked eagerly.
"Some seeds take longer than others too, don't they?" I answered evasively. "The annuals come up quite quickly, but perennials are much slower. I prefer perennials, don't you?"
"I will wait."
"The winter is such a good time for waiting," I remarked cheerfully.
"If faith be added to hope is the next step sure?" he questioned.
"Don't you know we cannot hurry the seasons. It is no good. If you are in winter, in the faith time, why, be content."
"Yes, spring will come, I will wait," he said again, and I too knew that spring would come.
I loosened my hand gently and we walked back under the bared boughs of the lime trees, a tangle of grass, weeds and ferns, and a rustling of brown fallen leaves at our feet. A hush as of going to sleep was in the air, and a robin from a full throat seemed to assure us that each season in its turn is good, and that spring never quite leaves the earth.
INDEX
ACONITE, Winter, 29
Anemones, 10, 173, 235; --Japanese, 186, 195, 233
Annuals, 54, 66, 113
Antirrhinums, 54, 57, 101, 131, 132, 179, 181, 238
Asters, perennial, 195, 197
BEGONIAS, 184
Biennials, 102
Bleeding Heart, 183, 232, 235
CALCEOLARIAS, 4, 183
Campanulas, 53, 106, 183, 212, 234
Canariensis, 55, 105, 187
Canterbury-Bells, 53, 56, 105, 164, 183, 185, 212, 222, 235
Christmas Roses, 47, 218, 219
Chrysanthemums, annual, 55, 113; --perennial, 7, 144, 196, 234
Clematis, 35; --Flamulata, 37, 217; --Montana, 214
Coleus, 184
Columbines, 57, 106, 183, 235
Convolvulus, 55, 105, 187
Coreopsis, 235
Cornflowers, 66, 150, 171
Creeping Jenny, 179
Crocuses, 19, 62
Crown Imperials, 235
DAFFODILS, 20, 28, 52, 71
Dahlias, 7, 145, 233; --Cactus, 195, 221
Daisies, autumn, 81, 233; --white, 55, 150, 181; --yellow, 181
Delphiniums, 54, 84, 147, 182, 211, 232
Doronicum, 81, 183, 231, 235
Dressing for rose roots, 103
ESCHSCHOLTZIA, 57, 177
Elder-tree, 121
FEATHERFEW, 184
Ferns, 72, 248
Forget-me-nots, 104, 130, 164, 213, 219, 220
Foxgloves, 72, 106, 222, 232
Fruit-trees, 108, 247
Fuchsias, 184
GAILLARDIAS, 53, 84, 106, 183, 234
Galega, 86, 182, 233
Geraniums, 4, 143, 180, 221; --Henry Jacoby, 181, 238
Geums, 183, 196, 235
Gladiolas, 54, 183, 212, 235
Godetias, 66, 113, 150, 171
Golden Rod, 81, 197, 233
Green fly, 118, 120
Ground-elder, 110, 148
Gypsophila, 57, 180
HARDY ANNUALS, 175
Hellebore, 38, 47, 218
Hollyhocks, 54, 147, 182, 195, 233
Honeysuckle, 151, 216
Hyacinths, 18, 238
INDIAN-PEA, _see_ Galega
Irises; English, 212; --German, 111, 183, 233; --Spanish, 212, 235
Ixias, 183
JAPANESE ROSE, 121
Jasmine, white, 35; --yellow, 32, 34, 37, 219
_KERRIA JAPONICA_, 121
LARKSPUR, 54, 84
Laurel, 120
Lavender, 236
Leopard's Bane, 81
Lilies, 81, 111, 182; --Auratum, 212; --Croceum,212; --Madonna, 212, 232; --Tiger, 182, 232
Lily-of-the-Valley, 244
Lobelia, 57, 101, 181, 238
London Pride, 81, 231
Lupins, 147, 186, 222, 232
MARGUERITES, 55, 59, 141, 181, 238
Marigolds, 55, 101, 141, 183, 197
Mignonette, 55, 56, 173
Montbresias, 54, 183, 212, 235
NARCISSI, 72, 212, 243
Nasturtium, 55, 56, 101, 105, 187
Nicotina, 161
'OLD MAN'S BEARD,' 37
PANSIES, 53
Papaver, _see_ Poppy
Penstemons, 57, 84, 106, 183, 196, 234, 238
Peonies, 243
Perennials, 106
Pergola, 204, 210
Phlox, 54, 82, 88, 183, 195, 233; --annual, 176
Plantains, 22, 239
Polyanthus, 53, 57, 100, 106, 132, 224, 231
Poppies, Californian, 57, 177; --Iceland, 57, 147, 196, 235; --Oriental, 106, 211, 234; --Shirley, 57, 66, 113, 150, 171
Primroses, 72, 248
ROCKET, 236
Roses, 74; --Crimson Rambler, 74, 128, 214; --Gloire de Dijon, 74, 129, 187, 213; --Reine Marie Hortense, 74, 128; --William Allen Richardson, 74, 128, 214; --cutting, 77; --Suckers, 79
Rudbeckias, 195
SAINT-FOIN, 151
Salpiglosis, 57, 175
Salvias, 184
Scabious, 57, 142, 183
Scillas, 28, 40, 51
Sea-holly, 236
Silene, 105, 164, 213
Snapdragons, _see_ Antirrhinums
Snowdrops, 28, 40, 51
Solomon's Seal, 235
Spiræa, 82, 233
Stocks, 53, 57, 106, 143, 183
Sunflowers, 56, 105, 182, 194, 196, 211, 233; --Rigidus, 233; --Soleil d'Or, 233
Sweet Peas, 56, 65, 107, 150, 174, 193
Sweet-William, 53, 56, 105, 164, 183, 185, 212, 222, 235
Syringa, 121
TAGETES, 55, 57, 101, 142
Thinning plants, 113, 163
Thistle, purple, 196, 236
Tritoma, 85, 236
Tritonia, 165
Tropoeolum, 55
Tulips, 81, 130, 132, 212, 220, 238
Turk's Head, 183, 185, 235
VALERIAN, 182, 185, 232
Verbena, 57
Viola, 53, 57, 60, 131, 238
Violets, 76, 80, 220
Virginian Creeper, 213
WALL-FLOWER, 53, 105, 164, 212, 220
Wisteria, 214
ZINNIA, 56, 57, 183, 221
THE END