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He said, “What is the matter, Mary?”

I said, “Oh, Arthur! I’ve found a book that will tell you all about mills; and it is the nicest smelling book in the Library.”

“The nicest smelling? What’s that got to do with mills?”

“Nothing, of course. But it’s bound in russia, and I am so fond of the smell of russia. But that’s nothing. It’s a Miller’s Dictionary, and it is in four huge volumes, ‘with plates.’ I should think you could look out all about every kind of mill there ever was a miller to.”

“If the plates give sections and diagrams”–Arthur began, but I did not hear the rest, for he started off for the library at once, and I ran after him.

But when we got Miller’s Dictionary on the floor, how he did tease me! For there was nothing about mills or millers in it. It was a Gardener’s and Botanist’s Dictionary, by Philip Miller; and the plates were plates of flowers, very truly drawn, like the pine tree in Uncle Charley’s Jap. picture. There were some sections too, but they were sections of greenhouses, not of any kinds of mills or machinery.

The odd thing was that it turned out a kind of help to Arthur after all. For we got so much interested in it that it roused us up about our gardens. We are all very fond of flowers, I most of all. And at last Arthur said he thought that miniature mills were really rather humbugging things, and it would be much easier and more useful to build a cold frame to keep choice auriculas and half-hardies in.

When we took up our gardens so hotly, Harry and Adela took up theirs, and we did a great deal, for the weather was fine.

We were surprised to find that the Old Squire’s Scotch Gardener knew Miller’s Gardener’s Dictionary quite well. He said, “It’s a gran’ wurrk!” (Arthur can say it just like him.)

One day he wished he could see it, and smell the russia binding; he said he liked to feel a nice smell. Father was away, and we were by ourselves, so we invited him into the library. Saxon wanted to come in too, but the gardener was very cross with him, and sent him out; and he sat on the mat outside and dribbled with longing to get in, and thudded his stiff tail whenever he saw anyone through the doorway.

The Scotch Gardener enjoyed himself very much, and he explained a lot of things to Arthur, and helped us to put away the Dictionary when we had done with it.

When he took up his hat to go, he gave one long look all round the library. Then he turned to Arthur (and Saxon took advantage of this to wag his way in and join the party), and said, “It’s a rare privilege, the free entry of a book chamber like this. I’m hoping, young gentleman, that you’re not insensible of it?”

Then he caught sight of Saxon, and beat him out of the room with his hat.

But he came back himself to say, that it might just happen that he would be glad now and again to hear what was said about this or that plant (of which he would write down the botanical name) in these noble volumes.

So we told him that if he would bring Saxon to see us pretty often, we would look out anything he wanted to know about in Miller’s Gardener’s Dictionary.

CHAPTER IV.

Looking round the library one day, to see if I could see any more books about gardening, I found the Book of Paradise.

It is a very old book, and very queer. It has a brown leather back–not russia–and stiff little gold flowers and ornaments all the way down, where Miller’s Dictionary has gold swans in crowns, and ornaments.

There are a good many old books in the library, but they are not generally very interesting–at least not to us. So when I found that though this one had a Latin name on the title page, it was written in English, and that though it seemed to be about Paradise, it was really about a garden, and quite common flowers, I was delighted, for I always have cared more for gardening and flowers than for any other amusement, long before we found Miller’s Gardener’s Dictionary. And the Book of Paradise is much smaller than the dictionary, and easier to hold. And I like old, queer things, and it is very old and queer.