too many admirers for whom she did not care, and thought too much of a
man who did not reciprocate. She was gay and moody in turn. During the
moody hours she suspected herself, and in her gay ones, scorned the
idea that she might ever care for a man who was indifferent. But that
thought once admitted, had a trick of returning at odd moments,
clouding her cheerful moods.

One sunshiny morning while the May flowers smiled under the hedge,
when dew sparkled on the leaves, and the locust-blossoms shone
creamy-white amid the soft green of the trees, the girls set about
their much-planned flower gardening. Helen was passionately fond of
plants, and had brought a jar of seeds of her favorites all the way
from her eastern home.

"We'll plant the morning-glories so they'll run up the porch, and the
dahlias in this long row and the nasturtiums in this round bed,"
Helen said.

"You have some trailing arbutus," added Mabel, "and must have
clematis, wild honeysuckle and golden-glow, for they are all
sweet flowers."

"This arbutus is so fresh, so dewy, so fragrant," said Helen, bending
aside a lilac bush to see the pale, creeping flowers. "I never saw
anything so beautiful. I grow more and more in love with my new home
and friends. I have such a pretty garden to look into, and I never
tire of the view beyond."

Helen gazed with pleasure and pride at the garden with its fresh green
and lavender-crested lilacs, at the white-blossomed trees, and the