‘That’s a shame. So what that rude fella said about Mr Shepherd being “assigned to the archives” was a load of rubbish.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid it was an unkind sort of joke.’

‘It was mean – as if we wouldn’t care about Mr Shepherd. I hope that awful man hasn’t taken over Mr Shepherd’s job as librarian, though I fear he might have.’

‘Me, too. Let’s see on Monday. How’s The Fickle Heart of Lady Blanche, by the way?’

‘Marvellous. Mum loved it, too.’

‘Aye, your mother always did love a bit of romance. Nowt wrong with that, either … Now, this one comes up shorter – make a note of the name, Nell, and then you’ll remember next time – so we should put that nearer the front so it’s not hidden.’

‘I saw in the picture book I borrowed how they planted the different heights in a border,’ said Ellen. ‘It’s tricky to get both the heights and the colours to best advantage.’

‘It can be, but if you keep noting things down in that exercise book of yours, and remember to use your eyes as well as your brain, you’ll be all right.’

Ellen smiled and held up her book, showing Tom the soil-stained cover and handprints on the pages. ‘I’m doing my best. I even drew a sketch of my favourite planting from one of the photos in the book, but it’s hard to guess the colours in black and white.’

Tom laughed. ‘It certainly is. Just think about what you’re working with, Nell, and don’t mind too much about photographs,’ he advised. ‘If you keep at it, you’ll get there.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Ellen. ‘I know you’re right. Look at the rose garden: last week I thought all was lost, but after what we did to tidy it up, already it’s beginning to look better. I’m right glad.’

‘I told you Nature finds a way, with the help of a little nurture. And I reckon you’ve got the makings of a good gardener,’ said Tom.

Ellen beamed. Tom was always ready to encourage and to praise, though she thought it would take her a lifetime to learn everything he knew.

‘So how did you hear about Mr Shepherd?’ she asked.

‘In the Lamb and Flag, of course. Reggie Travers told me Betty has made up an ointment for Mr Shepherd to try to ease the pain in his hip.’

‘Betty’s so clever. She knows about all sorts of cures, not just delivering babies. Where does Mr Shepherd live? Only if it’s near I could go and see him; I don’t want him to think his old readers don’t care about him.’