"That hop-pole is really an ornament now, Nan; this sage-bed needs
weeding,--that's good work for you girls; and, now I think of it,
you'd better water the lettuce in the cool of the evening, after I'm
gone."
To all of which remarks Nan gave her assent; though the hop-pole took
the likeness of a tall figure she had seen in the porch, the sage-bed,
curiously enough, suggested a strawberry ditto, the lettuce vividly
reminded her of certain vegetable productions a basket had brought,
and the bob-o-link only sung in his cheeriest voice, "Go home, go
home! he is there!"
She found John--he having made a freemason of himself, by assuming her
little apron--meditating over the partially spread table, lost in
amaze at its desolate appearance; one half its proper paraphernalia
having been forgotten, and the other half put on awry. Nan laughed
till the tears ran over her cheeks, and John was gratified at the
efficacy of his treatment; for her face had brought a whole harvest of
sunshine from the garden, and all her cares seemed to have been lost
in the windings of the lane.
"Nan, are you in hysterics?" cried Di, appearing, book in hand. "John,
you absurd man, what are you doing?"
"I'm helpin' the maid of all work, please marm." And John dropped a
curtsy with his limited apron.
Di looked ruffled, for the merry words were a covert reproach; and
with her usual energy of manner and freedom of speech she tossed
"Wilhelm" out of the window, exclaiming, irefully,--
"That's always the way; I'm never where I ought to be, and never think
of anything till it's too late; but it's all Goethe's fault.
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