XX 



EPILOGUE 



(DICTATED) 



Woodridge, January 3. In the face of circum- 

 stances that prevent my holding the pen in my own 

 hand, I am resolved that the first chronicle of the New 

 Year shall be mine, for by me it has sent The Gar- 

 den, You, and I a new member and our own garden a 

 new tree, an oak we hope. 



The Infant is exultant at the evident and direct result 

 of her dealings with the fairies, and keeps a plate of 

 astonishing goodies by the nursery hearth fire; these, 

 if the fairies do not feast upon personally, are appre- 

 ciated by their horses, the mice. 



His name is John Bartram Penrose, a good one to 

 conjure with gardenwise, though he is no kin to the 

 original. He has fresh- air lungs, and if he does not 

 wax strong of limb and develop into a naturalist of 

 some sort, he cannot blame his parents or their garden 

 vacation. 



MARY PENROSE, 



her ^ mark. 



374 



