OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 



agitation. He drew his Grandmother out of the green- 

 house, and rushed up to stand over his little fur sister, 

 crying out loud in sympathy and distress. 

 She was a small convulsed heap upon the ground. For- 

 tunately the tap, which ran into one of those delectable 

 barrels of odoriferous water so precious to the garden, was 

 quite close, and we were able to administer first aid with 

 promptitude. 



For all who do not know it : cold water to the head gives 

 immediate relief to any little creature in such a seizure. 



She quite grew out of them. But, alas ! our thistledown 

 Princess, our dear pretty silver lady ! We have delayed 

 to write her sad fate into the pages of the chronicle of the 

 happy Fur Family. She was stolen ! We often lie awake 

 thinking of her. Pampered as she was / so accustomed 

 to be thought of, and cherished, and made much of/ to 

 have her pearly robe brushed and combed to the last point 

 of perfection, her dainty appetite catered for/ to find a 

 caress and a cuddle whenever she was in the mood for it ! 

 A lurid mystery <accompanied by a great deal of hard 

 swearing) envelops her loss. She was lost on a half-hour's 

 motor-trip which her family, struck with momentary idiocy, 

 was allowing her to undertake alone. She was, in fact, 

 about to contract another matrimonial alliance with a 

 prince of her own race, and was so securely packed in her 

 luxurious travelling basket, so unmistakably labelled, so 

 solemnly handed over to the care of the conductor of the 

 motor 'bus, that it did not seem as if she could come to 

 harm. 

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