io8 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



wrote me last week that she was sending me some of her 

 prize pink Dahlias, and some gladioli bulbs ! " 



"Possibly these might fill three large cases !" laughed 

 Bart, in his turn. 



"Why not see if any of those letters throw light upon 

 the mystery, and then I'll help ' hook up,' as I suppose 

 Barney has gone home, and we will bring up the crates 

 even if they contain crocodiles !" said The Man, cheer- 

 fully. Complications always have an especially cheer- 

 ing effect upon him, I've often noticed. 



The beams of a quarter moon were picturesque, but 

 not a satisfactory light by which to read letters, espe- 

 cially when under excitement, so Bart brought out a 

 carriage lantern with which we had equipped our camp, 

 and proceeded to sort the mail, tossing the rejected let- 

 ters into my lap. 



Suddenly he paused at one, extra bulky and bearing 

 the handwriting of his mother, weighed it on the palm 

 of his hand, and opened it slowly. From it fell three of 

 the yellow- brown papers upon which receipts for ex- 

 pressage are commonly written; I picked them up 

 while Bart read slowly 

 "MY DEAR SON, 



" We were most glad to hear through daughter Mary 

 of your eminently sensible and frugal plan for passing 



