Pride o' character, that's anither thing a'thegither, and to be respectit." My great-grandfather gave me a few paints, and under his directions I daubed away, much to my own content.

When I was struggling hopelessly with the perspective of some pansies of various colours (for in imitation of him I painted flowers), he would say, "Never mind the shape, dear Marguerite, get the colour--the colour, my child!" And he trained me to a quickness in the perception of colour certainly not common at my age.
I spent many pleasant hours, too, in the less intellectual society of Adolphe.

He dug a bed for me in a bit of spare ground, and shaped it like a heart.

He laboured constantly at this heart, making it plump by piling up the earth, and cramming it with plants of various kinds--perennials much in want of subdivision, and often in full bloom--which he brought from cottage gardens of "folk he knew," and watered copiously to "sattle 'em." His real name was not Adolphe, but Thomas.

As this, however, had created some confusion between him and the cat, my great-grandmother had named him afresh, after a retainer of the de Vandaleurs in days gone by, whose faithful service was a tradition in the family.
I was very happy at The Vine--by day.