XVI 



A FRIEND of ours once told us that a doubtful sister 

 in-law had written describing the weather as " boysterious." 

 The word pleases us. It looks so much more graphic, 

 spelt thus, than in the ordinary way. Well, we are having 

 a " boysterious " time with shifting winds, this end of 

 March. All the poor Pheasant-eye's leaves are bruised 

 and drooping, and the little field of Narcissus under the 

 Buddleia trees is bent and tangled. To-day Adam has 

 rolled away six tubs filled with last year's Hyacinths and 

 put them in the border before the rough wall in the front 

 courtyard, against which we have last autumn planted 

 Wichuriana Roses in divers shades of yellow and tawny, 

 chiefly " Jersey Beauties/' A row of Polyanthuses, 

 " Munstead Strain," are blooming in front. The 

 Hyacinths are blue. The effect ought to be pretty in 

 a week or so. When the Hyacinths are over we shall 

 go back to the old pink climbing Geraniums for the tubs, 

 and they will, please Heaven, flourish from June onwards 

 between our yellow roses. We think we will plant pink 

 Geraniums, but we are not quite sure, for last year we 

 had red "Jacobys" in those tubs, and very well they 

 looked. We should not at all object to them in contrast 

 to the roses. 



Last night Loki's Grandmother began to plan a new 

 garden extravagance. She finds it very soothing when sleep 

 abandons her pillow. We have not half enough Honey- 

 sucklethat's a fact. She thinks she will order a dozen pots. 



Ill 



