164 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



kitchen mirror, when she put the hat on. ' But I'm 

 not insultin' God's flowers tryin' to pass them off 

 for French ones, Annie,' says she. 'I'm settin' anew 

 garden fashion; let them follow who will!' and away 

 wid her! That same other is in here now, and it's 

 no sin to let yer peep, gin it's ye own posies and ye chest 

 they're in. " So, throwing open the door Anastasia re- 

 vealed the slate shelf covered by a sheet of white paper, 

 while resting on an empty pickle jar, for a support, was 

 the second hat, of loosely woven black straw braid, an 

 ornamental wire edging the brim that would allow 

 it to take a dozen shapes at will. It was garlanded by 

 a close- set wreath of crimson peonies grading down to 

 blush, all in half bud except one full-blown beauty 

 high in front and one under the brim set well against 

 the hair, while covering the wire, caught firm and close, 

 were glossy, fragrant leaves of the wild sweetbrier made 

 into a vine. 



Ah, well, this is an unexpected development born of 

 our experiment and a human sort of chronicle for The 

 Garden, You, and I. 



One of the most puzzling things in this living out-of- 

 doors on our own place is the reversal of our ordinary 

 viewpoints. Never before did I realize how we look 

 at the outdoor world from inside the house, where inani- 



