COMMUTER'S WIFE 121 



full of unexpected softness. Father and Evan dis- 

 appeared each to his lair, to return simultaneously 

 armed with pipe and tobacco pouch, which prom- 

 ised me two outdoor companions. For these beloved 

 men instinctively avoid saturating the indoor air with 

 pipe smoke, knowing without a word from me that 

 a woman of sensitive organization has the nose of 

 a hunting-dog. 



Then we three strolled down toward the long 

 walk to take the first step toward capturing the 

 Garden of Dreams, that I might live my life in it. 

 A song sparrow sang merrily, a bluebird purled 

 away from the Mother Tree, the soft bright air 

 bore the fragrance of Russian violets, and a bit of 

 the tangle was gay with the hardy pompon chrys- 

 anthemums, tawny, red, yellow, pink, and white. 

 My heart beat joyously, for love held me by either 

 hand, and before me there was work to be done, and 

 work is life. Still it is the first day of November! 

 Fie upon you, melancholy autumn poets! 



