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<h2> CHAPTER XXI </h2>
<h3> KEDGERS </h3>
<p>The work at Stornham Court went on steadily, though with no greater
rapidity than is usually achieved by rural labourers. There was, however,
without doubt, a certain stimulus in the occasional appearance of Miss
Vanderpoel, who almost daily sauntered round the place to look on, and
exchange a few words with the workmen. When they saw her coming, the men,
hastily standing up to touch their foreheads, were conscious of a slight
acceleration of being which was not quite the ordinary quickening produced
by the presence of employers. It was, in fact, a sensation rather pleasing
than anxious. Her interest in the work was, upon the whole, one which they
found themselves beginning to share. The unusualness of the situation—a
young woman, who evidently stood for many things and powers desirable,
employing labourers and seeming to know what she intended them to do—was
a thing not easy to get over, or be come accustomed to. But there she was,
as easy and well mannered as you please—and with gentlefolks' ways,
though, as an American, such finish could scarcely be expected from her.
She knew each man's name, it was revealed gradually, and, what was more,
knew what he stood for in the village, what cottage he lived in, how many
children he had, and something about his wife. She remembered things and
made inquiries which showed knowledge. Besides this, she represented,
though perhaps they were scarcely yet fully awake to the fact, the promise
their discouraged dulness had long lost sight of.</p>
<p>It actually became apparent that her ladyship, who walked with her, was
altering day by day. Was it true that the bit of colour they had heard
spoken of when she returned from town was deepening and fixing itself on
her cheek? It sometimes looked like it. Was she a bit less stiff and
shy-like and frightened in her way? Buttle mentioned to his friends at The
Clock that he was sure of it. She had begun to look a man in the face when
she talked, and more than once he had heard her laugh at things her sister
said.</p>
<p>To one man more than to any other had come an almost unspeakable piece of
luck through the new arrival—a thing which to himself, at least, was
as the opening of the heavens. This man was the discouraged Kedgers. Miss
Vanderpoel, coming with her ladyship to talk to him, found that the man
was a person of more experience than might have been imagined. In his
youth he had been an under gardener at a great place, and being fond of
his work, had learned more than under gardeners often learn. He had been
one of a small army of workers under the orders of an imposing head
gardener, whose knowledge was a science. He had seen and taken part in
what was done in orchid houses, orangeries, vineries, peach houses,
conservatories full of wondrous tropical plants. But it was not easy for a
man like himself, uneducated and lacking confidence of character, to
advance as a bolder young man might have done. The all-ruling head
gardener had inspired him with awe. He had watched him reverently,
accumulating knowledge, but being given, as an underling, no opportunity
to do more than obey orders. He had spent his life in obeying, and
congratulated himself that obedience secured him his weekly wage.</p>
<p>"He was a great man—Mr. Timson—he was," he said, in talking to
Miss Vanderpoel. "Ay, he was that. Knew everything that could happen to a
flower or a s'rub or a vegetable. Knew it all. Had a lib'ery of books an'
read 'em night an' day. Head gardener's cottage was good enough for
gentry. The old Markis used to walk round the hothouses an' gardens
talking to him by the hour. If you did what he told you EXACTLY like he
told it to you, then you were all right, but if you didn't—well, you
was off the place before you'd time to look round. Worked under him from
twenty to forty. Then he died an' the new one that came in had new ways.
He made a clean sweep of most of us. The men said he was jealous of Mr.
Timson."</p>
<p>"That was bad for you, if you had a wife and children," Miss Vanderpoel
said.</p>
<p>"Eight of us to feed," Kedgers answered. "A man with that on him can't
wait, miss. I had to take the first place I could get. It wasn't a good
one—poor parsonage with a big family an' not room on the place for
the vegetables they wanted. Cabbages, an' potatoes, an' beans, an'
broccoli. No time nor ground for flowers. Used to seem as if flowers got
to be a kind of dream." Kedgers gave vent to a deprecatory half laugh. "Me—I
was fond of flowers. I wouldn't have asked no better than to live among
'em. Mr. Timson gave me a book or two when his lordship sent him a lot of
new ones. I've bought a few myself—though I suppose I couldn't
afford it."</p>
<p>From the poor parsonage he had gone to a market gardener, and had
evidently liked the work better, hard and unceasing as it had been,
because he had been among flowers again. Sudden changes from forcing
houses to chill outside dampness had resulted in rheumatism. After that
things had gone badly. He began to be regarded as past his prime of
strength. Lower wages and labour still as hard as ever, though it
professed to be lighter, and therefore cheaper. At last the big neglected
gardens of Stornham.</p>
<p>"What I'm seeing, miss, all the time, is what could be done with 'em.
Wonderful it'd be. They might be the show of the county-if we had Mr.
Timson here."</p>
<p>Miss Vanderpoel, standing in the sunshine on the broad weed-grown pathway,
was conscious that he was remotely moving. His flowers—his flowers.
They had been the centre of his rudimentary rural being. Each man or woman
cared for some one thing, and the unfed longing for it left the life of
the creature a thwarted passion. Kedgers, yearning to stir the earth about
the roots of blooming things, and doomed to broccoli and cabbage, had
spent his years unfed. No thing is a small thing. Kedgers, with the earth
under his broad finger nails, and his half apologetic laugh, being the
centre of his own world, was as large as Mount Dunstan, who stood thwarted
in the centre of his. Chancing-for God knows what mystery of reason-to be
born one of those having power, one might perhaps set in order a world
like Kedgers'.</p>
<p>"In the course of twenty years' work under Timson," she said, "you must
have learned a great deal from him."</p>
<p>"A good bit, miss-a good bit," admitted Kedgers. "If I hadn't ha' cared
for the work, I might ha' gone on doing it with my eyes shut, but I
didn't. Mr. Timson's heart was set on it as well as his head. An' mine got
to be. But I wasn't even second or third under him—I was only one of
a lot. He would have thought me fine an' impident if I'd told him I'd got
to know a good deal of what he knew—and had some bits of ideas of my
own."</p>
<p>"If you had men enough under you, and could order all you want," Miss
Vanderpoel said tentatively, "you know what the place should be, no
doubt."</p>
<p>"That I do, miss," answered Kedgers, turning red with feeling. "Why, if
the soil was well treated, anything would grow here. There's situations
for everything. There's shade for things that wants it, and south aspects
for things that won't grow without the warmth of 'em. Well, I've gone
about many a day when I was low down in my mind and worked myself up to
being cheerful by just planning where I could put things and what they'd
look like. Liliums, now, I could grow them in masses from June to
October." He was becoming excited, like a war horse scenting battle from
afar, and forgot himself. "The Lilium Giganteum—I don't know whether
you've ever seen one, miss—but if you did, it'd almost take your
breath away. A Lilium that grows twelve feet high and more, and has a
flower like a great snow-white trumpet, and the scent pouring out of it so
that it floats for yards. There's a place where I could grow them so that
you'd come on them sudden, and you'd think they couldn't be true."</p>
<p>"Grow them, Kedgers, begin to grow them," said Miss Vanderpoel. "I have
never seen them—I must see them."</p>
<p>Kedgers' low, deprecatory chuckle made itself heard again,</p>
<p>"Perhaps I'm going too fast," he said. "It would take a good bit of
expense to do it, miss. A good bit."</p>
<p>Then Miss Vanderpoel made—and she made it in the simplest
matter-of-fact manner, too—the startling remark which, three hours
later, all Stornham village had heard of. The most astounding part of the
remark was that it was uttered as if there was nothing in it which was not
the absolutely natural outcome of the circumstances of the case.</p>
<p>"Expense which is proper and necessary need not be considered," she said.
"Regular accounts will be kept and supervised, but you can have all that
is required."</p>
<p>Then it appeared that Kedgers almost became pale. Being a foreigner,
perhaps she did not know how much she was implying when she said such a
thing to a man who had never held a place like Timson's.</p>
<p>"Miss," he hesitated, even shamefacedly, because to suggest to such a
fine-mannered, calm young lady that she might be ignorant, seemed
perilously near impertinence. "Miss, did you mean you wanted only the
Lilium Giganteum, or—or other things, as well."</p>
<p>"I should like to see," she answered him, "all that you see. I should like
to hear more of it all, when we have time to talk it over. I understand we
should need time to discuss plans."</p>
<p>The quiet way she went on! Seeming to believe in him, almost as if he was
Mr. Timson. The old feeling, born and fostered by the great head
gardener's rule, reasserted itself.</p>
<p>"It means more to work—and someone over them, miss," he said. "If—if
you had a man like Mr. Timson——"</p>
<p>"You have not forgotten what you learned. With men enough under you it can
be put into practice."</p>
<p>"You mean you'd trust me, miss—same as if I was Mr. Timson?"</p>
<p>"Yes. If you ever feel the need of a man like Timson, no doubt we can find
one. But you will not. You love the work too much."</p>
<p>Then still standing in the sunshine, on the weed-grown path, she continued
to talk to him. It revealed itself that she understood a good deal. As he
was to assume heavier responsibilities, he was to receive higher wages. It
was his experience which was to be considered, not his years. This was a
new point of view. The mere propeller of wheel-barrows and digger of the
soil—particularly after having been attacked by rheumatism—depreciates
in value after youth is past. Kedgers knew that a Mr. Timson, with a
regiment of under gardeners, and daily increasing knowledge of his
profession, could continue to direct, though years rolled by. But to such
fortune he had not dared to aspire.</p>
<p>One of the lodges might be put in order for him to live in. He might have
the hothouses to put in order, too; he might have implements, plants,
shrubs, even some of the newer books to consult. Kedgers' brain reeled.</p>
<p>"You—think I am to be trusted, miss?" he said more than once. "You
think it would be all right? I wasn't even second or third under Mr.
Timson—but—if I say it as shouldn't—I never lost a
chance of learning things. I was just mad about it. T'aint only Liliums—Lord,
I know 'em all, as if they were my own children born an' bred—shrubs,
coniferas, herbaceous borders that bloom in succession. My word! what you
can do with just delphiniums an' campanula an' acquilegia an' poppies,
everyday things like them, that'll grow in any cottage garden, an' bulbs
an' annuals! Roses, miss—why, Mr. Timson had them in thickets—an'
carpets—an' clambering over trees and tumbling over walls in sheets
an' torrents—just know their ways an' what they want, an' they'll
grow in a riot. But they want feeding—feeding. A rose is a gross
feeder. Feed a Glory deejon, and watch over him, an' he'll cover a
housetop an' give you two bloomings."</p>
<p>"I have never lived in an English garden. I should like to see this one at
its best."</p>
<p>Leaving her with salutes of abject gratitude, Kedgers moved away
bewildered. What man could believe it true? At three or four yards'
distance he stopped and, turning, came back to touch his cap again.</p>
<p>"You understand, miss," he said. "I wasn't even second or third under Mr.
Timson. I'm not deceiving you, am I, miss?"</p>
<p>"You are to be trusted," said Miss Vanderpoel, "first because you love the
things—and next because of Timson."</p>
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