As for Gertrude Canterton, they detested her wholeheartedly. Her unpopularity was easily explained, for her whole idea of philanthropy was of an attitude of restless intrusion into the private lives of the people. She visited, harangued, scolded, and was mortally disliked for her multifarious interferences. The mothers were lectured on the feeding of infants, and the cooking of food. She entered cottages as though she were some sort of State inspector, and behaved as though she always remembered the fact that the cottages belonged to her husband. The men called her “Mother Fussabout,” and by the women she was referred to as “She.” They had agreed to recognise the fact that Gertrude Canterton had a very busy bee in her bonnet, and, with all the mordant shrewdness of their class, suffered her importunities and never gave a second thought to any of her suggestions. Visitors came almost daily to the Fernhill nurseries, and were taken round by Lavender, the foreman, or by Canterton himself. Sometimes they passed Eve while she was painting, and she could tell by the expression of Canterton’s eyes whether he was dealing with rich dilettanti or with people who knew. Humour was to be got out of some of these tours of inspection, and Canterton would come back smiling over the “buy-the-whole-place” attitude of some rich and indiscriminate fool. “I have just had a gentleman who thought the Japanese garden was for sale.” “Oh!” “A Canadian who has made a fortune in land and wood-pulp and has bought a place over here. When I showed him the Japanese garden, he said, ‘I’ll take this in the lump, stones, and fish, and trees, and the summer-house, and the little joss house. See?’” “Was he very disappointed when you told him?” “Oh, no. He asked me to name a price for fixing him up with an identical garden, including a god. ‘Seems sort of original to have a god in your garden.’ I said we were too busy for the moment, and that gods are expensive, and are not to be caught every day of the week.” They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes. “What queer things humans are!” “A madman turned up here once whose mania was water lilies. He had an idea he was a lotus eater, and he stripped and got into the big lily tank and made a terrible mess of the flowers. It took us an hour to catch him and get him out, and we had him on our hands for a week, till his people tracked him down and took him home. He seemed quite sane on most things, and was a fine botanist, but he had this one mad idea.” “Perhaps it was some enthusiasm gone wrong. One can sympathise with some kinds of madmen.” “When one looks at things dispassionately one might be tempted to swear that half our civilisation is absolutely mad.” He stood beside her for a while and watched her painting. “You are getting quite a lot of technical knowledge.” “I want to be thorough. And Fernhill has aroused an extraordinary curiosity in me. I want to know the why and the wherefore.”