Children of the Dear CotswoldsHarker, L. Allen (Lizzie Allen)
General
Children of the Dear Cotswolds
Harker, L. Allen (Lizzie Allen)
Cotswold Hills (England) -- Fiction
Sometimes the "young missus"—she was really young, being still in her
teens—attempted a little gardening on her own account, as when she
planted crocus bulbs on a grassy bank facing the drawing-room windows.
She had hoped that Williams would not notice them, as that bank was
never mown till well on in the spring. But Williams not only noted but
disapproved their very earliest appearance. "A grass bank be a grass
bank," he asserted, "and bulbs a-growing be out of place," so he mowed
the grass assiduously and the crocuses came to nought.
"He really is a most aggravating man," exclaimed the young missus; "he
won’t let one have a thing one wants."
However, the absolute monarchy of Williams was not destined to continue.
Even as he had ruled his master and mistress there arose another who
ruled not only them but Williams also. Where the young missus had
meekly suggested that certain things might be done in such a way as they
never were done, this personage had but to point a diminutive forefinger
in the direction of anything he coveted when Williams would hasten to
procure it for him with the greatest alacrity. He was not of imposing
stature, this new autocrat. When he first began to tyrannise over
Williams, he stood just about as high as that worthy’s knee, and his
walk, in its uncertainty, strongly resembled that of Williams himself on
the night of the last election, when the Tory candidate was returned by
a majority of two votes.
But to return to the autocrat. He certainly interfered with Williams’s
work, causing him to waste whole hours in hovering about near the drive
gate that he might catch a glimpse of his equipage as he set out for an
airing in a fine white coach propelled by a white-clad attendant.
Williams would not have been averse from occasional parleyings with the
attendant. She was young and pretty; but she had other and more lively
fish to fry, and would have scorned to do more than exchange the most
formal of passing courtesies with "that there deaf old gardener"—who,
however, was never so deaf but that the clear little voice calling
"_Wee_-ams" attracted immediate attention.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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