remembered, she
had told him, was that Colin was getting well--getting well. The garden
was doing it. No one must let him remember about having humps and dying.

The Rajah condescended to seat himself on a rug under the tree.

"What work do you do in the gardens, Weatherstaff?" he inquired.

"Anythin' I'm told to do," answered old Ben. "I'm kep' on by
favor--because she liked me."

"She?" said Colin.

"Tha' mother," answered Ben Weatherstaff.

"My mother?" said Colin, and he looked about him quietly. "This was her
garden, wasn't it?"

"Aye, it was that!" and Ben Weatherstaff looked about him too. "She were
main fond of it."

"It is my garden now, I am fond of it. I shall come here every day,"
announced Colin. "But it is to be a secret. My orders are that no one is
to know that we come here. Dickon and my cousin have worked and made it
come alive. I shall send for you sometimes to help--but you must come
when no one can see you."

Ben Weatherstaff's face twisted itself in a dry old smile.

"I've come here before when no one saw me," he said.

"What!" exclaimed Colin. "When?"

"Th' last time I was here," rubbing his chin and looking round, "was
about two year' ago."

"But no one has been in it for ten years!" cried Colin. "There was no
door!"

"I'm no one," said old Ben dryly. "An' I didn't come through th' door. I
come over th' wall. Th' rheumatics held me back th' last two year'."

"Tha' come an' did a bit o' prunin'!" cried Dickon. "I couldn't make out
how it had been done."

"She was so fond of it--she was!" said Ben Weatherstaff slowly. "An' she
was such a pretty young thing. She says to me once, 'Ben,' says she
laughin', 'if ever I'm ill or if I go away you must take care of my
roses.' When she did go away th' orders was no one was ever to come
nigh. But I come," with grumpy obstinacy. "Over th' wall I come--until
th' rheumatics stopped me--an' I did a bit o' work once a year. She'd
gave her order first."

"It wouldn't have been as wick as it is if tha' hadn't done it," said
Dickon. "I did wonder."

"I'm glad you did it, Weatherstaff," said Colin. "You'll know how to
keep the secret."

"Aye, I'll know, sir," answered Ben. "An' it'll be easier for a man wi'
rheumatics to come in at th' door."

On the grass near the tree Mary had dropped her trowel. Colin stretched
out his hand and took it up. An odd expression came into his face and he
began to scratch at the earth. His thin hand was weak