i6o THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



at night or intercept the rays of the dining-room lamp, 

 our home beacon of dark nights. 



In addition to the usual and convenient modern shirt- 

 waist -and- skirt endowment, Maria had when she came 

 but two gowns, one of black muslin and the other white, 

 with improvised hats to match, simple, graceful 

 gowns, yet oversombre. 



But lo ! she has blossomed forth like a spring seed 

 catalogue, and Bart insists that I watched the gate with 

 his field-glass an hour the afternoon of the tea, to see 

 her go out. I did no such thing ; I was looking at an 

 oriole's nest that hangs in the elm over the road, but 

 I could not help seeing the lovely pink flower hat that 

 she wore atilt, with just enough pink at the neck and 

 streamers at the waist of her dress to harmonize. 



I visited the larder that evening for supper supplies, 

 yes, we have become so addicted to the freedom of 

 outdoors that for the last few days Bart has brought 

 even the dinner up to camp, waiting upon me beauti- 

 fully, for now we have entirely outgrown the feeling of 

 the first few days that we were taking part in a comedy, 

 and have found ourselves, as it were in some ways, 

 I think, for the first time. 



Anastasia seemed consumed with a desire for a dish 

 of gossip, but was not willing to take the initiative. She 



