"It's much more fun than basin washing," said Roberta. "How sparkly
the weeds are between the stones, and the moss on the roof--oh, and
the flowers!"

The roof of the back kitchen sloped down quite low. It was made of
thatch and it had moss on it, and house-leeks and stonecrop and
wallflowers, and even a clump of purple flag-flowers, at the far
corner.

"This is far, far, far and away prettier than Edgecombe Villa," said
Phyllis. "I wonder what the garden's like."

"We mustn't think of the garden yet," said Roberta, with earnest
energy. "Let's go in and begin to work."

They lighted the fire and put the kettle on, and they arranged the
crockery for breakfast; they could not find all the right things,
but a glass ash-tray made an excellent salt-cellar, and a newish
baking-tin seemed as if it would do to put bread on, if they had
any.

When there seemed to be nothing more that they could do, they went
out again into the fresh bright morning.

"We'll go into the garden now," said Peter. But somehow they
couldn't find the garden. They went round the house and round the
house. The yard occupied the back, and across it were stables and
outbuildings. On the other three sides the house stood simply in a
field, without a yard of garden to divide it from the short smooth
turf. And yet they had certainly seen the garden wall the night