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All the plants belonged to Ellen, the cook, who had a perfect passion for flowers and growing plants. One of the greatest offences the children could commit was to break or injure any of her treasures in any way.

Ellen was leaning out of the window now, admiring her beloved plants, smoothing over the earth with her fingers, and tidying away any dead leaves, and all the time she was doing it she talked to the plants just as though they could hear her and understand. She picked a leaf of the scenty geranium and offered it to Priscilla, who took it gratefully, for she loved the scent, and Ellen was not often so generous.

It was too hot in the yard to remain there long, and too dull, so Priscilla presently wandered away to the orchard beyond. The orchard was on the slope of the hill at the back of the house, and was full of very old apple-trees. Each of the children had a favourite tree, and a favourite seat in it. Priscilla clambered up to hers, and sat there for a few moments, sniffing at her geranium leaf and looking about her rather disconsolately; it was so stupid and uninteresting to be there alone, yet nothing else seemed worth doing by herself, and what had become of Geoffrey she did not know.