They had turned the corner of the house and, passing close to the yew hedge, now rough and, as it were, hairy, instead of close-shaved, as yew hedges should be, came upon a lawn surrounded by trees and shrubs.
At the end of the lawn two tall cedars stood like king and queen. On each side a weeping ash, its long branches trained over iron hoops, stood, as Jane said, like crinolined ladies-in-waiting. Round the lawn were grouped the courtiers-all in court mourning for last summer, but with the promise of new green suits already displayed. Lilac, broom, gueldrerose, American currant, and almond trees like pretty girls in their coming-out dresses. And all among the grass and along the edges of the shrubberies were flowers, and flowers, and more flowers again.
"It's like the field of the Cloth of Gold," said Jane. "Why, what's the matter, Lucy?"
"It's all too perfect," said Lucilla, sniffing. "Look at the trees and the grass and the quiet. What on earth can we have done to deserve this?"
"Nothing," said Jane. "Let's hope we shall do something to deserve it before we die."
