The clematis was in bloom,
and its soft white plumes fringed the archway of the lattice work. As
the child looked down the garden walk it seemed very long and very
beautiful to her. Her grandmother's flower-garden had been constantly
encroached upon by the turf which surrounded it, until the snowberry
bush, the London pride, the tiger-lilies, and the crimson phlox were
like a besieged garrison.
Nan had already found plenty of wild flowers in the world; there were
no entertainments provided for her except those the fields and
pastures kindly spread before her admiring eyes. Old Mrs. Thacher had
been brought up to consider the hard work of this life, and though she
had taken her share of enjoyment as she went along, it was of a
somewhat grim and sober sort. She believed that a certain amount of
friskiness was as necessary to young human beings as it is to colts,
but later both must be harnessed and made to work. As for pleasure
itself she had little notion of that. She liked fair weather, and
certain flowers were to her the decorations of certain useful plants,
but if she had known that her grand-daughter could lie down beside the
anemones and watch them move in the wind and nod their heads, and
afterward look up into the blue sky to watch the great gulls above the
river, or the sparrows flying low, or the crows who went higher, Mrs.
Thacher would have understood almost nothing of such delights, and
thought it a very idle way of spending one's time.
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