or its birds or its beetles, and express that dear, indescribable
intimacy that makes the Phlox a friend and the Johnny-Jump-Up a
play-fellow.

-

The best place for angle-worms was underneath the white Syringa bush -
the tallest bloomer in the garden except the great Red Rose that climbed
over the entire wall of the house, tacked to it by strips of red
flannel, and whose blossoms were annually counted and reported to the
weekly newspaper.

Another good place was under the Snowball bush, where the ground was
covered with white petals dropped from the countless blossom-balls that
made passers-by stop in admiration.

Still another good digging-ground was in the Lilac corner where the
purple and white bushes exhaled their incomparable perfume. Grandmother
forbade digging in the flower-beds - it was all right to go into the
vegetable garden, but the tender flower-roots must not be exposed to the
sun by ruthless boy hands intent only on the quest of bait.

-

Into the lapel of my dress coat She fastened a delicate orchid last
night. It must have cost a pretty penny, at this season - enough, no
doubt, to buy the seeds that would reproduce a half-dozen of my
grandmother's gardens. And as we moved away in the limousine She asked
me why I was so silent. She could not know that when she slipped its
rare stem into place upon my coat, the long years dropped away - and I