i8 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



corner brimming with strawberries, and in the other a 

 pink tissue-paper parcel, tied with ribbon, containing 

 mushrooms, proving that, after all, fussy Mr. Vandeveer 

 has the saving grace of humour. 



My righteous garden-indignation dwindled; laughter 

 caught me by the throat and quenched the remainder. 

 Evan, knowing nothing of the concatenation, but scent- 

 ing something from the card, joined sympathetically. 

 Glancing at father, I saw that his nose was twitching, and 

 in a moment his shoulders began to shake and he led the 

 general confession that followed. It seems that he 

 arrived at the hospital really the day of the consultation, 

 but found that the patient, in need of surgical care, had 

 been seized with nervous panic and gone home ! 



After such a thoroughly vulgar day there is really 

 nothing to do but laugh and plan something pleasant for 

 to-morrow, unless you prefer crying, which, though 

 frequently a relief to the spirit, is particularly bad for 

 eye wrinkles in the middle-aged. 



May-day. I always take this as a holiday, and give 

 myself up to any sort of outdoor folly that comes into 

 my head. There is nothing more rejuvenating than to 

 let one's self thoroughly go now and then. 



Then, besides, to an American, May-day is usually a 

 surprise in itself. You never can tell what it will bring, 



