96 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



knoll on one side and reached by a short cut across 

 the old orchard and abandoned meadows of the farm 

 above, the lack of cultivation resulting in a wealth of 

 field flowers. 



"Entirely!" assented Bart, his spoon in the coffee 

 cup stirring vigorously and his head enveloped in the 

 newspaper. But what did the point of view matter: 

 he was content and unhurried what better beginning 

 for a vacation ? In fact in those two words lies the real 

 vacation essence. 



Meanwhile, as I munched and sipped, with luxurious 

 irresponsibility, I watched Maria moving to and fro 

 between the shrubs that bounded the east alley of the 

 old garden. In her compressed city surroundings she 

 had always seemed to me a very big sort of person, with 

 an efficiency that was at times overpowering, whose 

 brown eyes had a "charge bayonet" way of fixing one, 

 as if commanding the attention of her pupils by force 

 of eye had become a habit. But here, her most cher- 

 ished belongings given room to breathe in the spare 

 room that rambles across one end of the house, while 

 her wardrobe has a chance to realize itself in the deep 

 closet, Maria in two short days had become another 

 person. 



She does not seem large, but merely well built. The 



