‘Yet I used to see a good deal of stephanotis about the rooms in my father’s time.’ ‘Ay, there’s a fine plant growing in a bit of a glass—shed,’ said Mr. MacCloskie with ineffable contempt. ‘Necessity’s the mother of invention, Mr. Goring. Your gardeners have done just wonders. But with all deference to you, sir, that kind of thing wouldn’t suit me. And if Miss Lawford has any idea of my coming here by-and-by——’ with a respectful glance at his mistress, as he stood at ease, contemplating the spotless lining of his top-hat. ‘Miss Lawford would like you to continue in her service when she is Mrs. Goring. Perhaps you will be good enough to give me an exact specification of the space you would require, and the form of house you would suggest. I wish Miss Lawford to be in no way a loser when she exchanges South Hill for Goring Abbey.’ ‘Thank you, sir, you are very good, sir,’ murmured the Scotchman, as if it were for his gratification the houses were to be built. ‘This is a very fine place, sir; it would be a pity if it were to be behind the times in any particular.’ The head gardener bowed and withdrew, everyone—even Aunt Rhoda—breathing more freely when he had vanished. ‘Isn’t he too utterly horrid?’ asked Daphne. ‘If there is a being I detest in this world it is he. Were I in Lina’s place I should take advantage of my marriage to get rid of him; but she will just go down to her grave domineered over by that man,’ concluded Daphne, mimicking MacCloskie’s northern tongue. ‘He is not the most agreeable person in the world,’ said Lina; ‘but he is thoroughly conscientious.’ ‘Did you ever know a disagreeable person who did not set up for being a paragon of honesty?’ exclaimed Daphne contemptuously. They roamed about the rose-garden, which was a lovely place to loiter in upon a summer day, and lingered under the tulip-trees, where there were rustic chairs and a rustic table, and every incentive to idleness. Beyond the tulip-trees there was a shrubbery on the slope of the hill, a shrubbery which sheltered the rose-garden from bleak winds, and made it a thoroughly secluded spot. While the rest of the party sat talking under the big broad-leaved trees, Daphne shot off to explore the shrubbery. The first thing that attracted her attention was a large wire cage among the laurels. ‘Is that an aviary?’ she asked. ‘No,’ answered Gerald, rising and going over to her. ‘These are my father’s antecedents.’ He pulled away the laurel branches which had spread themselves in front of the cage, and Daphne saw that it contained only a shabby old barrow, a pickaxe, and shovel.