COMMUTER'S WIFE 35 



Plantier that was brought over in the thirties and 

 has never been surpassed as a healthy, willing 

 bloomer. Now, even in its leafless state, it is a giant 

 shrub in my tangled-up child border and will hold its 

 place in the garden that is to be as well as mother's 

 beds of hardy flowers. But of the perfunctory, skin- 

 deep work combined of Aunt Lot and the four gar- 

 deners that separates mother's reign from mine, not 

 a trace remains save a few scars on the grassy slope 

 beneath the study windows, that mark the location of 

 some fantastic foliage beds, which as for beauty or 

 fragrance might as well have been made of gay 

 carpet or spotted calico. 



The ingredients of this class of bed are always the 

 same, though the beds themselves may vary in shape 

 and compounding coleus in vars, red geraniums, 

 alternanthera, dusty miller, hen and chickens, with 

 salvias or cannas for centrepieces, all worthy and 

 innocent plants individually, but so hot and stiff when 

 combined, affecting the colour-sensitive like the sight 

 of a stout, short-necked woman walking in the sun 

 with a tight gown and high collar. 



"You are straying from gardens," murmur the 

 leaves of my " Garden Boke," through which the 

 breeze is rustling and conveniently drying the ink 

 without aid from a blotter. 



