A GREAT RUNNER. 277 



rounding it on all sides with stakes plainly lettered. 

 Thus fortified, I waited confidently till the winter 

 should be over, having put my own weaknesses and 

 Patrick s at defiance. 



True to my confident expectations, with the first 

 few warm suns my crimson flax reappeared amid its 

 palisade of stakes. It grew far more strongly than 

 before, spreading rapidly into a large bush, and re 

 quiring the assistance of supports and strings to keep 

 it in shape. There was an odd singularity about it, 

 however, which struck me as remarkable. The leaf 

 seemed different from what it had been before it 

 was longer and narrower ; but this probably was one 

 of those changes which perennials undergo ere they 

 get firmly established, and, among the many curious 

 things I had experienced, did not surprise me partic 

 ularly. The plant was on the exact place where it 

 had been the year previous ; it was growing luxuri 

 antly, and bid fair to be a magnificent ornament to 

 the garden, for it had a prominent situation. I did 

 not boast of it, however. Boasting is not natural to 

 me. I did not even call Weeville s attention to it. 

 He had disappointed me so often that I resolved he 

 should be disappointed himself. I was determined 

 to say nothing until it should be covered with its 

 crimson gems. 



