The dense growth of shrub and creeper, which had been
allowed to grow up around it, the home according to the popular legend of
uncanny multitudes of owls and bats, tickled imagination; and Tatham had
often brought a field-glass to bear upon the house from one of the
neighbouring hills. But as he turned the last corner of the drive he drew
up his horse in amazement.
The jungle was gone--! and the simple yet stately architecture of the
house stood revealed in the summer sunshine. In the west wing, indeed,
the windows were still shuttered, and many of them overgrown with ivy;
but the dingy thickets of laurel and yew were everywhere shorn away; and
to the east all the windows stood free and open. Moreover, two men were
at work in the front garden, clearing the flagged paths, traced in the
eighteenth century, from encumbrance, and laying down turf in a green
circle round one of the small classical fountains that stood on either
side of the approach.
"What on earth is the old villain up to now?" was the natural comment of
the surprised Tatham.
Was it simply the advent of a guest--an invalid guest--that had wrought
such changes?
One of the gardeners, seeing him as he approached the gate, came running
up to hold his horse. Tatham, who knew everybody and prided himself on
it, recognized him as the son of an old Duddon keeper.
"Well, Backhouse, you're making a fine clearance here!"
"Aye! It's took us days, your lordship. But we're about through wi' this
side, howivver.
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