Judy teased Rae sometimes about him.
"Sure and he'd be easy to cook for, Cuddles darlint. They're telling me he niver ates innything but nuts and bran biscuits. No wonder he's not nading a salary. But how about kaping a wife?"
"You do say such ridiculous things," said Rae rather snappishly. "What is it to me whether he can keep a wife or not?"
Tillytuck was not quite easy in his mind about it. He considered Mr. Wheeler a dangerous creature and wondered why Long Alec tolerated his presence at all. As he entirely disapproved of the Holy Christians he decided he would take up with church-going again as a token of his disapproval. He took several weeks to accumulate enough courage to go, being afraid, as he told Judy, of making too much of a sensation. But when he finally did go and nobody took any particular notice of it he was secretly furious.
"There wasn't a good-looking woman in church," he grumbled, "and no great shakes of a minister. He runs to words and I don't believe his views on the devil are sound. Sort of flabby. I like a devil with some backbone."
"Suppose you do be going to the Holy Christians," said Judy disdainfully, as she sliced up her red cabbage for pickling. "I'm hearing they have wrestling matches wid That Person quite frequent."
"The people of this place are having too much truck with Holy Christians as it is," said Tillytuck sourly, "and the time will come when they'll see it."
"There'll no harm come to Silver Bush from that poor lad," said Judy. "And ye'll all be getting a rale surprise some day."
"You've got wheels in your head," scoffed Tillytuck.
Pat, at that moment, was working in the garden, at peace with herself and all the world. Somehow, she always felt safe from change in that garden. Just now it seemed to be taking pleasure in itself. Its flowers were guests not prisoners ... its blue delphiniums, its frail fleeting loveliness of poppies, its Canterbury bells, delicious mauve flecked with purple, its roses of gold and snow, its lilies of milk and wine.
Westward the sun was sinking low over a far land of shining hills. The air was sweet with a certain blended fragrance that only the Silver Bush garden knew. The whole lovesome place was full of soft amethyst shadows.
What fairy things the seeds of immortelles were! What a lovely name "bee balm" was! It was on evenings like this long ago she had listened for Joe's whistle as he came home from work. There was never any whistle now ... Sid never whistled. Poor Sid! Would he never get over fretting for that hateful Dorothy? He was running around, here, there and everywhere, with all kinds of girls, rumour said. They saw very little of him at Silver Bush. At work all day ... and off in the evening till late. Mother's eyes were very sad sometimes. Judy advised patience ... he would come back to himself yet. Pat found it hard to be patient. At times she felt like shaking Sid. Why should he shut her out of his life as he did? That was always one of the little shadows in the background.
There was a hint of September coolness blowing across August's languor ... another summer almost gone. The years were certainly beginning to spin past rather quickly. Well, to grow old with Silver Bush would not be hard, Pat reflected, with the philosophy of one who is as yet very far from age.
Suddenly Pat scowled. There was that wretched Mr. Wheeler coming up the lane. Thank goodness, Rae had gone to Winnie's. Now for another evening of boredom. When would he take the hint that his attentions to Rae weren't welcome to her or anybody else? Her lovely garden evening would be quite spoiled. And he had been here only last night. Really, he was becoming an intolerable nuisance.
Would it be violating Silver Bush traditions too flagrantly to give him a hint of it?
Pat's greeting was a trifle distant and she went on coolly snipping off delphinium seeds. Bold-and-Bad, who had been prowling among the shrubs, made a few spiteful remarks. You couldn't hoodwink Bold-and-Bad.
Mr. Wheeler stood looking down at her. Pat had an old sunburned felt hat of Sid's on her head which she would not have thought ... if she had thought about it at all ... likely to attract masculine admiration. And she wore an ancient brown crepe dress which burrs and stick-tights could no longer injure. She did not know how its warm hues brought out the creaminess of her skin ... the gloss of her hair ... the fire of her amber eyes. She was really looking her best and when, after a rather overlong silence, she raised her eyes to her caller's she found his dark, soulful orbs ... the adjectives were Aunt Polly's daughter's ... gazing down at her with a strange expression in their depths. An incredible idea came to Pat ... and was instantly dismissed. Nonsense! She wished he wouldn't stand so close to her. She knew at once what he had for supper. How overfull his red lips were! And when had his finger-nails been cleaned last? WHY didn't somebody come along? People were always somewhere else when you wanted them and when you didn't you simply fell over them.
"You are smiling ... you have such a fascinating smile. What are you thinking of, Patricia," he said in a low, caressing tone.
Merciful goodness, suppose she told him what she was thinking! Pat had hard work to avert a grin. And then the bolt fell, straight out of the blue.
Mr. Wheeler helped himself to one of her hands and looked at it.
"Little white hand," he murmured. "Little white hand that holds my heart."
Pat's hands were brown and not particularly little. She tried to pull it away. But he held on and put his arm around her. Worse and more of it, as Tillytuck would say. Suppose Judy were looking out of the kitchen window!
"Please, don't be so ... foolish," said Pat coldly.
"I'm not foolish. I am wise ... very wise ... wise with the wisdom of countless ages." His voice was getting lower and tenderer with every word. "I've been wanting this opportunity for weeks. It has been so hard to find you alone. Dearest, sweetest of angels, have you any idea how much I love you ... have loved you for a thousand lives?"
"I never thought of such a thing ... I always thought it was Rae," was all poor Pat could gasp.
Mr. Wheeler smiled patronisingly.
"You couldn't have thought that, my darling. Miss Rachel is a charming child. But it is you, my sweet ... and always has been since the first moment I drowned my soul in your beautiful eyes. I think I must have dreamed you all my life ... and now my dream has come true." He tried to draw her closer. "You belong to me ... you know you do. We will have such a wonderful life together, my queen."
Pat recovered herself. She wrested her hand from his clasp, feeling quite furious over her ridiculous position.
"You must forget all this nonsense, Mr. Wheeler," she said decisively. "I hadn't the slightest idea you felt that way about me. And ..." Pat was growing angry, "just how did you come to imagine that I would marry YOU?"