GARDENS AND GOSSIPS 



two may not much resemble the lovers' mystery of 

 talk, may indeed confine itself to the most ordinary 

 topics and be entirely understandable of the multitude, 

 yet who shall deny it its own peculiar quality, its note 

 of home? After all, the garden that listened so ten- 

 derly to the lovers, need not despise the conversation 

 of this maturer couple, hobnobbing so quietly, and ap- 

 parently only concerned with servant and office and 

 bread-and-butter problems. Possibly an even deeper 

 miracle lies within this matter-of-fact chatter than the 

 lovers themselves were cognizant of. 



But these are by no means all who come to ex- 

 change confidences in the shady nook. The white- 

 aproned nurse-maid and her friend sit here, watching 

 their charges, the rich Irish flowing in an unbroken 

 stream, with Peggy this and Norah that, and "Sure 

 it 's a wonder Tom don't make his meanin' clear," or 

 "'Tis a pretty dress ye had on at mass, Annie, would 

 ye be afther tellin' me where ye got the same ?" "Will 

 ye look at the childer, in the middle-midst of the nas- 

 turshuns, glory be to God!" Or it may be a hit at a 

 mutual acquaintance: "What, old Mrs. Blake, that lives 

 by the car-track ? Well, well, one niver can say what 

 nixt!" 



Perhaps, of all the various forms of gossip overheard 

 by the garden, the loveliest is that between a young and 

 an old person who are friends. Real friendship be- 

 tween the generations is rare, but when it exists it is of 



