"Mother," she exclaimed, "you MUST come with us!"
"I can't, I can't," said Mrs. Vedder, "the roses MUST be
pruned--and see! The azaleas are coming into bloom."
With that she presented me to her daughter.
And, then, shortly, for it could no longer be concealed, I
learned that Mr. and Mrs. Vedder were not the caretakers but the
owners of the estate and of the great house I had seen on the
hill. That evening, with an air almost of apology, they explained
to me how it all came about.
"We first came out here," said Mrs. Vedder, "nearly twenty years
ago, and built the big house on the hill. But the more we came to
know of country life the more we wanted to get down into it. We
found it impossible up there--so many unnecessary things to see
to and care for--and we couldn't--we didn't see--"
"The fact is," Mr. Vedder put in, "we were losing touch with each
other."
"There is nothing like a big house," said Mrs. Vedder, "to
separate a man and his wife."
"So we came down here," said Mr. Vedder, "built this little
cottage, and developed this garden mostly with our own hands. We
would have sold the big house long ago if it hadn't been for our
friends. They like it."
"I have never heard a more truly romantic story," said I.
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