IX 
T the beginning of September the lower 
border, which has been such a delight 
all summer, drooped and turned brown. All 
the foliage of the golden glow became rusty, 
stocks went out of bloom, phlox began to 
seed, feverfew was ragged and poor. It 
seemed as though its good days were num- 
bered. I pulled up old plants and cut down 
brown stalks, with a feeling that I was saying 
good-bye to my most companionable border. 
But before two weeks were over, it was in 
full beauty again, only with a difference. 
Both the China and perennial asters have 
painted in all shades of violet, rose, and pur- 
ple. The gaillardias, so late in blooming this 
year, have opened their large single flowers 
of red and gold. The dear little bushes of 
French marigolds have begun anew, with the 
greatest diligence, to cover themselves with 
red-brown velvet buttons. So once more 
o)167 
