Page:The Seven Dials Mystery (1929).pdf/16

domain over which he ruled with an autocratic eye. MacDonald was a very chief and prince among head gardeners. He knew his place—which was to rule. And he ruled—despotically.

Lady Coote approached him nervously.

"Good-morning, MacDonald."

"Good-morning, m'lady."

He spoke as head gardeners should speak—mournfully, but with dignity—like an emperor at a funeral.

"I was wondering—could we have some of those late grapes for dessert to-night?"

"They're no fit for picking yet," said MacDonald.

He spoke kindly but firmly.

"Oh," said Lady Coote.

She plucked up courage.

"Oh! but I was in the end house yesterday, and I tasted one and they seemed very good."

MacDonald looked at her, and she blushed. She was made to feel that she had taken an unpardonable liberty. Evidently the late Marchioness of Caterham had never committed such a solecism as to enter one of her own hothouses and help herself to grapes.

"If you had given orders, m'lady, a bunch should have been cut and sent in to you," said MacDonald severely.

"Oh! thank you," said Lady Coote. "Yes, I will do that another time."

"But they're no properly fit for picking yet."

"No," murmured Lady Coote. "No, I suppose not. We'd better leave it then."