No sooner had I
related what had befallen me at the Stanleys' than Mrs. Vedder
disappeared into the house and came out again presently with a
tray loaded with cold meat, bread, a pitcher of fine milk, and
other good things.
"I shall not offer any excuses," said I, "I'm hungry," and with
that I laid in, Mr. Vedder helping with the milk, and all three
of us talking as fast as ever we could.
It was nearly midnight when at last Mr. Vedder led the way to
the immaculate little bedroom where I spent the night.
The next morning I awoke early, and quietly dressing, slipped
down to the garden and walked about among the trees and the
shrubs and the flower-beds. The sun was just coming up over the
hill, the air was full of the fresh odours of morning, and the
orioles and cat-birds were singing.
In the back of the garden I found a charming rustic arbour with
seats around a little table. And here I sat down to listen to the
morning concert, and I saw, cut or carved upon the table, this
verse, which so pleased me that I copied it in my book:
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot--
The veriest school of peace; and yet
the fool
Contends that God is not--
Not God! in gardens? when the even
is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign,
'Tis very sure God walks in mine.
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