those old-fashioned paradises which hardly exist any longer except as memories of our childhood:  no finical separation between flower and kitchen garden there; no monotony of enjoyment for one sense to the exclusion of another; but a charming paradisiacal mingling of all that was pleasant to the eyes and good for food.  The rich flower-border running along every walk, with its endless succession of spring flowers, anemones, auriculas, wall-flowers, sweet-williams, campanulas, snapdragons, and tiger-lilies, had its taller beauties, such as moss and Provence roses, varied with espalier apple-trees; the crimson of a carnation was carried out in the lurking crimson of the neighbouring strawberry-beds; you gathered a moss-rose one moment and a bunch of currants the next; you were in a delicious fluctuation between the scent of jasmine and the juice of gooseberries.  Then what a high wall at one end, flanked by a summer-house so lofty, that after ascending its long flight of steps you could see perfectly well there was no view worth looking at; what alcoves and garden-seats in all directions; and along one side, what a hedge, tall, and firm, and unbroken, like a green wall!

It was near this hedge that Mr. Jerome was standing when Sally found him.  He had set down the basket of strawberries on the gravel, and had lifted up little Lizzie in his arms to look at a bird’s nest.  Lizzie peeped, and then looked at her grandpa with round blue eyes, and then peeped again.

‘D’ye see it, Lizzie?’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ she whispered in return, putting her lips very near grandpa’s face.  At this moment Sally appeared.

‘Eh, eh, Sally, what’s the matter?  Is Mr. Tryan come?’

‘No, sir, an’ Missis says she’s sure he won’t come now, an’ she wants you to come in an’ hev tea.  Dear heart, Miss Lizzie, you’ve stained your pinafore, an’ I shouldn’t wonder if it’s gone through to your frock.  There’ll be fine work!  Come alonk wi’ me, do.’

’Nay, nay, nay, we’ve done no harm, we’ve done no harm, hev we, Lizzie?  The wash-tub’ll make all right again.’

Sally, regarding the wash-tub from a different point of view, looked sourly serious, and hurried away with Lizzie, who trotted submissively along, her little head in eclipse under a large nankin bonnet, while Mr. Jerome followed leisurely with his full broad shoulders in rather a stooping posture, and his large good-natured features and white locks shaded by a broad-brimmed hat.

‘Mr. Jerome, I wonder at you,’ said Mrs. Jerome, in a tone of indignant remonstrance, evidently sustained by a deep sense of injury, as her husband opened the parlour door.  ‘When will you leave off invitin’ people to meals an’ not lettin’ ’em know the time?  I’ll answer for’t, you niver said a word to Mr. Tryan as we should take tea at five o’clock.  It’s just like you!’

‘Nay, nay, Susan,’ answered the husband in a soothing tone, ’there’s nothin’ amiss.  I told Mr. Tryan as we took tea at five punctial; mayhap summat’s a detainin’ on him.  He’s a deal to do, an’ to think on, remember.’