To the right, too, was a hill clothed in deep green bush.

The grounds themselves were planted with vines, just now loaded with bunches of ripening grapes, and surrounded by a beautiful hedge of monthly roses that formed a blaze of bloom.

Near the house, too, was a bed of double roses, some of them exceedingly lovely, and all flowering with a profusion unknown in this country.

Altogether it was a delightful spot, and, after the noise and glare of the camp, seemed a perfect heaven.

So they sat there and talked a great deal about the farm and old Silas Croft and a little about Bessie.
"This _is_ nice," said Jess presently, putting her hands behind her head and looking out at the bush beyond.
"Yes," said John.