O U 11 C O U N T 11 V II O M E 



hole to the next, making a beautifully soft outline for the perfectly 

 clear inscription. We stood back and laughed in delight; we 

 turned and walked away for some distance to see how it carried. 

 it was just what we wanted. 



We returned to the house in triumph. But the rain and the 

 wind played havoc with our work. In a few weeks ends of the yarn 

 were waving in the breeze and a dilapidated and out-at-elbow 

 announcement greeted the passer-by, it looked as if the gatepost 

 were ravelling. Why would n't black paint, following closely in 

 the lines of the wool, produce the same effect ? The Constant 

 Improver watched as the gardener cautiously experimented. Yes ; 

 it was good. The letters stood clearly forth in soft velvety outline. 

 We congratulated one another, for this had been on our minds for 

 many moons, and now the Constant Improver could turn his active 

 intellect to other problems. 



Was there not the small greenhouse to build ? Why should n't 

 its sides, too, be of the rough-hewn timbers, and the potting sheds 

 at the ends have the mossy roof of the woodshed ? Even the sash 

 which held the glass was to be painted brown, an unheard of in- 

 novation in greenhouse construction. Instead of an ugly chimney, 

 a good terra-cotta chimney-pot was selected and carefully brought 

 out " by hand " from the city. Only the martin-house sent us by a 

 friend stood white and uncompromising in the midst of all these 

 blending tones. To be sure, the martins had not yet found it. 

 After two years the Constant Improver could endure it no longer, 



