Roland Graeme had both readiness, neatness of hand, and good nature in
abundance; he immediately lent his aid, and in a minute or two the
bough was supported, and tied up in a way perfectly satisfactory to
the old man, who looked at it with great complaisance. "They are
bergamots," he said, "and if you will come ashore in autumn, you shall
taste of them--the like are not in Lochleven Castle--the garden there
is a poor pin-fold, and the gardener, Hugh Houkham, hath little skill
of his craft--so come ashore, Master Page, in autumn, when you would
eat pears. But what am I thinking of--ere that time come, they may
have given thee sour pears for plums. Take an old man's advice, youth,
one who hath seen many days, and sat in higher places than thou canst
hope for--bend thy sword into a pruning-hook, and make a dibble of thy
dagger--thy days shall be the longer, and thy health the better for
it,--and come to aid me in my garden, and I will teach thee the real
French fashion of _imping_, which the Southron call graffing. Do
this, and do it without loss of time, for there is a whirlwind coming
over the land, and only those shall escape who lie too much beneath
the storm to have their boughs broken by it."
So saying, he dismissed Roland Graeme, through a different door from
that by which he had entered, signed a cross, and pronounced a
benedicite as they parted, and then, still muttering to himself,
retired into the garden, and locked the door on the inside.
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