On the day Phyl's hair went up it seemed to Richard that a new person had come to live with them. Phyl had suddenly turned into a young woman--and such a young woman! He had never considered her looks before, to young men of his age and temperament girls in pigtails are, as far as the manhood in them is concerned, little more and sometimes less than things. But Phyl with her hair up was not to be denied, and had he not been philandering after Frances Rhett, and had Phyl been a total stranger suddenly seen, it is quite possible that a far warmer feeling than admiration might have been the result. As it was she formed a new interest in life.
He showed her the alterations he was making, slight enough and causing little change in the general plan of the garden.
"I scarcely like doing anything," said he, "but that new walk will be no end of an improvement, and it will save that bit of grass which is being trodden to death by people crossing it, then there's all those bushes by the gate, they're going, those behind the tree,--a little space there will make all the difference in the world."
"Because they have been there always and--well, look!"
She led the way behind the tree, pushed the bushes aside and disclosed the seat.
She no longer felt that she was betraying a secret. Her experience at Grangersons had in some way made Vernons seem to her now really her home, and Richard Pinckney closer to her in relationship.
"Why, how did you know that was there?" said Richard. "I've never seen it."
"Juliet Mascarene used to sit there with--with some one she was in love with. I found some of her old letters and they told about it--see, it's a little arbour, used to be, though it's all so overgrown now."
"Juliet," said he. "That was the girl who died. I have heard Aunt Maria talk about her and she keeps her room just as it used to be. Who was the somebody?"
"I knew there was a love story of some sort connected with her, but I never worried about the details. So they used to come and sit here."
"Yes, he'd come to the gate at night and she'd meet him. Her people did not want her to marry him and so they had to meet in secret."
"Aunt is always saying how like you are to her," said he, "but she's mad on family likenesses, and I never thought of it. It may be a want in me but I've never taken much interest in dead relatives; but somehow, finding this little place tucked away here gives one a jog. It's like finding a nest in a tree. How long have you known of it?"