Mr. Crewe was silent for a moment. It would not be exact to say uncomfortable, for it is to be doubted whether he ever got so. But he felt dimly that the relations of patron and patronized were becoming somewhat jumbled. “All right,” said he, “I guess we can let it go at that. Hello! What the deuce are those women doing here again?” This irrelevant exclamation was caused by the sight through the open French window--of three ladies in the flower garden, two of whom were bending over the beds. The third, upon whose figure Austen's eyes were riveted, was seated on a stone bench set in a recess of pines, and looking off into the Yale of the Blue. With no great eagerness, but without apology to Austen, Mr. Crewe stepped out of the window and approached them; and as this was as good a way as any to his horse and buggy, Austen followed. One of the ladies straightened at their appearance, scrutinized them through the glasses she held in her hand, and Austen immediately recognized her as the irreproachable Mrs. Pomfret. “We didn't mean to disturb you, Humphrey,” she said. “We knew you would be engaged in business, but I told Alice as we drove by I could not resist stopping for one more look at your Canterbury bells. I knew you wouldn't mind, but you mustn't leave your--affairs,--not for an instant.” The word “affairs” was accompanied by a brief inspection of Austen Vane. “That's all right,” answered Mr. Crewe; “it doesn't cost anything to look at flowers, that's what they're for. Cost something to put 'em in. I got that little feller Ridley to lay 'em out--I believe I told you. He's just beginning. Hello, Alice.” “I think he did it very well, Humphrey,” said Miss Pomfret. “Passably,” said Mr. Crewe. “I told him what I wanted and drew a rough sketch of the garden and the colour scheme.” “Then you did it, and not Mr. Ridley. I rather suspected it,” said Mrs. Pomfret; “you have such clear and practical ideas about things, Humphrey.” “It's simple enough,” said Mr. Crewe, deprecatingly, “after you've seen a few hundred gardens and get the general underlying principle.” “It's very clever,” Alice murmured. “Not at all. A little application will do wonders. A certain definite colour massed here, another definite colour there, and so forth.” Mr. Crewe spoke as though Alice's praise irritated him slightly. He waved his hand to indicate the scheme in general, and glanced at Victoria on the stone bench. From her (Austen thought) seemed to emanate a silent but mirthful criticism, although she continued to gaze persistently down the valley, apparently unaware of their voices. Mr. Crewe looked as if he would have liked to reach her, but the two ladies filled the narrow path, and Mrs. Pomfret put her fingers on his sleeve. “Humphrey, you must explain it to us. I am so interested in gardens I'm going to have one if Electrics increase their dividend.”