Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction
Mrs. Overtheway looked much the same in winter as in summer. She
seemed as fresh and lively as ever, carried her Prayer-book and
handkerchief in the same hand, was only more warmly wrapped up, and
wore fur-lined boots, which were charming. There was one change,
however, which went to Ida's heart. The little old lady had no longer
a flower to take to church with her. At Christmas she took a sprig of
holly, and after that a spray of myrtle, but Ida felt that these were
poor substitutes for a rose. She knew that Mrs. Overtheway had flowers
somewhere, it is true, for certain pots of forced hyacinths had passed
through the little green gate to the Christmas church decorations; but
one's winter garden is too precious to be cropped as recklessly as
summer rose-bushes, and the old lady went flowerless to church and
enjoyed her bulbs at home. But the change went to Ida's heart.
Spring was early that year. At the beginning of February there was a
good deal of snow on the ground, it is true, but the air became milder
and milder, and towards the end of the month there came a real spring
day, and all the snow was gone.
"You may go and play in the garden, Miss Ida," said Nurse, and Ida
went.
She had been kept indoors for a long time by the weather and by a
cold, and it was very pleasant to get out again, even when the only
amusement was to run up and down the shingly walks and wonder how soon
she might begin to garden, and whether the gardener could be induced
to give her a piece of ground sufficiently extensive to grow a crop of
mustard-and-cress in the form of a capital I. It was the kitchen
garden into which Ida had been sent. At the far end it was cut off
from the world by an overgrown hedge with large gaps at the bottom,
through which Ida could see the high road, a trough for watering
horses, and beyond this a wood. The hedge was very thin in February,
and Ida had a good view in consequence, and sitting on a stump in the
sunshine she peered through the gap to see if any horses came to
drink. It was as good as a peep-show, and indeed much better.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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