off into Lofty John’s bush. Emily had never seen a sun-dial before and hung over it enraptured.
“Your great-great grandfather, Hugh Murray, had that brought out from the Old Country,” said Cousin Jimmy. “There isn’t as fine a one in the Maritime Provinces. And Uncle George Murray brought those conchs from the Indies. He was a sea-captain.”
Emily looked about her with delight. The garden was lovely and the house quite splendid to her childish eyes. It had a big front porch with Grecian columns. These were thought very elegant in Blair Water, and went far to justify the Murray pride. A schoolmaster had said they gave the house a classical air. To be sure, the classical effect was just now rather smothered in hop vines that rioted over the whole porch and hung in pale-green festoons above the rows of potted scarlet geraniums that flanked the steps.
Emily’s heart swelled with pride.
“It’s a noble house,” she said.
“And what about my garden?” demanded Cousin Jimmy jealously.
“It’s fit for a queen,” said Emily, gravely and sincerely.
Cousin Jimmy nodded, well pleased, and then a strange sound crept into his voice and an odd look into his eyes.
“There is a spell woven round this garden. The blight shall spare it and the green worm pass it by. Drought dares not invade it and the rain comes here gently.”
Emily took an involuntary step backward—she almost felt like running away. But now Cousin Jimmy was himself again.
“Isn’t this grass about the sun-dial like green velvet? I’ve taken some pains with it, I can tell you. You make yourself at home in this garden.” Cousin Jimmy made a splendid gesture. “I confer the freedom of it upon you. Good-luck to you, and may you find the Lost Diamond.”
