72 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



that you cannot bear us company this summer, yet I 

 must say that the edge of regret is somewhat dulled 

 by my interest in the progress and result of your garden 

 vacation, which to us at least is a perfectly unique idea, 

 and quite worthy of the inventive genius of The Man 

 from Everywhere. 



Plainly do I see by the scope of this same letter of 

 yours that the records of The Garden, You, and I, 

 instead of being a confection of undistinguishable in- 

 gredients blended by a chef of artistic soul, will be a 

 home-made strawberry shortcake, for which I am to 

 furnish the necessary but uninspired crust, while you 

 will supply the filling of fragrant berries. 



With the beginning of your vacation begin my ques- 

 tions domestic that threaten to overbalance your ques- 

 tions horticultural. If the Infant should wail at night, 

 do you expect to stay quietly out "in camp" and not 

 steal on tiptoe to the house, and at least peep in at the 

 window? Also, you have put a match-making thought 

 in a head swept clean of all such clinging cobwebs since 

 Sukey Crandon married Carthy Latham and, turn- 

 ing their backs on his ranch experiment, they decided to 

 settle near the Bradfords at the Ridge, where presently 

 there will be another garden growing. If you have no 

 one either in the family or neighbourhood likely to 



