184 A Little Maryland Garden 
(tritomas) still held up their narrow scarlet 
flames. Dahlias were, some at their height, 
some just about to open their first buds, 
in their provoking dilatory way. Zinnias 
were in full flower, brightening the borders 
with orange and straw-coloured, cherry-red 
and pink flowers. 
After two nights of frost this was all 
wiped out, as if a sponge had passed over a 
slate leaving it bare for another picture. 
After the first, the tender plants were with- 
ered; but the second annihilated them. 
Dahlia bushes turned black, zinnias were 
brown and withered as if scorched by flames. 
The marigolds looked as if ink had been 
thrown over them. Nasturtiums were flat- 
tened to the ground, pulpy and unsightly, 
and the gay Prince’s feather drooped for- 
lorn. It was small consolation to look 
down at the garden under the wall, and find 
that even in that favoured spot nothing 
survived—colour was wiped out and it lay 
ready for the winter. In fact it was worse 
there than with me, for in my garden some 
