swam Salt River and stopped the L. & N. express from going down in the
cut during the storm last year," Edith hastened to say when Mrs. Folk's
breath had given out. Tolly's ugly good face was beautiful to see when
she spoke of him thus, though Edith didn't notice it.

When you start a Harpeth Valley town to telling how wonderful it is to
the third and fourth generation back, it is like a seething torrent and
can go on for ever. I glowed to think of all the wonderful things I
could write Peter, and we all started home from the post-office as late
as supper hour would admit.

After I got home, escorted by the reunited Edith and Tolly, as well as
by Billy Robertson, who wants to be Peter's hero, though he wasn't
directly saying so, I sat down determinedly to write to Peter at
inspiring length and make him feel how I valued his confidence in me,
also to mention the war drama. Just then I raised my eyes and that
wonderful notebook had pushed a corner of itself out of the desk from
under the manuscript. I couldn't use my mind advising between a modern
epic and a war drama while it was plowed up ready for peonies, so I
decided to wait and ask Sam's advice about advising Peter, and I read
the rest of the peony pages in comfort. Right then, too, I made up my
mind that I was going to get ground bone to plant at the roots of all
the peonies if I had to use my own skeleton to do it and would only see
them bloom with astral eyes.

I was still reading when the supper-bell rang, and was only interested
in reminiscences of Grandmother Nelson during the meal.

"No, ma'am, Miss Caroline, you got it wrong. Ole Mis' didn't divide
clover pinks 'cepting every third year 'stid of second. _Hers_ bloomed,