Country life -- England -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Love stories
"The real thing to do," Tom told Margaret, was to see the great green
spaces in the midst of a wonderful city, and the chestnuts which in
another month would be in bloom in Hyde Park, and the Round Pond and the
Serpentine. "But as, after all," he went on, "you probably have trees
and ponds at Chidhurst, we'll begin by going to St. Paul's. I'm afraid,
seeing the limited time at our disposal, that the Tower and the Monument
must be left alone." A brilliant thought struck him as they were driving
back down the Strand to the Houses of Parliament. "We'll take Miss
Hunstan a stack of flowers from Covent Garden--you must see Covent
Garden, you know. Hi! cabby, turn up here--Covent Garden; we want to get
some flowers."
"Oh, but I've brought no money with me."
"I have--heaps," he laughed, delighted at her innocence. "I had an idea
we might do something, you know. Now then, here we are. You must jump
out, if you don't mind."
They walked up and down the centre arcade, looking in at the shops, as
happy and as guileless as Adam and Eve in the first garden when the
world was all their own. They chose a stack of flowers, as Tom called
it; he filled Margaret's arms with them just for the pleasure of looking
at her.
"You make quite a picture loaded with them," he said. "Look here, I
should like to give you some roses, too, if you will have them?" he
said, almost humbly. "We get them in London, you see, before you do in
the country; and I want you to take some back with you."
"I should like to take my mother some," she answered, quite unconscious,
of course, of their value.
"Good! You shall take her a heap from us both--I should like to send her
some, if I may. But they shall meet you at Waterloo in a box, then
they'll be fresh at the last moment."
Margaret felt, as they drove on again, as if she had found a playfellow,
a comrade, some one who made life a wholly different thing. She had
never been on equal terms with any one young before--with any one at all
who laughed and chattered and looked at the world from the same
stand-point as she felt that she and Tom did, though till yesterday she
had not set eyes on him. It was a new delight that the world had
suddenly sprung upon her. This was what it was like to be a boy and girl
together, to have a brother, to have friends, what it would be like if
some day in the future she were married: people went about then laughing
and talking and delighting in being together. Oh, that wonderful word
together!
"We won't go to the Abbey," Tom said, "because you did that yesterday,
and before we inspect the House of Commons--"
"Some day you will be there!"
"Some day I shall be there," he echoed; "but before I show you the
identical seat in which it is my ambition to sit, we'll get rid of these
flowers. Great College Street is here, just round the corner. I wonder
if she's at home. Jolly little street, isn't it? with its low houses on
one side and the old wall on the other."
"And the trees looking over--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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