MARY IN ME. TROMMEL'S GARDEN 151 



his bald spot. "This is now the 6th. They should 

 begin to bloom, perhaps, the end of the month. 



"The roses," he mused, "ah, they are the loveliest, I 

 know, but sometimes I think the sweet peas are the 

 dearest. Already you see how the 

 fine little tendrils hold the wire. 

 At the end of the month they will 

 be holding tight, tighter than 

 ever, for the blossoms have then 

 their wings. So the pea-vine 

 holds tight with the little green 

 fingers when the bees come and 

 talk to the pretty flowers and tell 

 them how nice it is to go visiting. 

 I think she is afraid the pretty 

 children will fly off." 



The under-gardener was listen- 

 ing intently. "Did you ever see a sweet pea run 

 off with a bee, Mr. Trommel?" 



"No," he admitted; "but you know my eyes are 

 old. Besides, I have spectacles in front of them. 

 When you come to wearing spectacles, lAebchen, you 

 sometimes cannot see the things that you could with- 

 out." 



"Then perhaps if I watch," said the assistant, with 



