198 THE GARDEN OF A 



is of dog biscuits, and totally different from the 

 abandon with which they linger over the leavings 

 of kidney stew. 



It is well worth a little effort to see parched, 

 fevered lips moisten with expectancy when I take 

 from my "hospital basket" the glass plate of 

 lemon jelly or glac^ed orange, seeded and parted 

 in its natural divisions, sprinkled with sugar and 

 frozen. The jelly, I know, would not be as pala- 

 table from a thick hospital saucer. 



True, modern science questions the nutritiveness 

 of many "sick-room messes" of our grandmother's 

 day. Yet father thinks that there is such a thing as 

 satisfying the mental side of an invalid's appetite, 

 which some of the young doctors, learned in every- 

 thing except the common-sense of experience, do 

 not understand. For surely there are some nerv- 

 ous, homesick conditions, where a little home-made 

 apple sauce is more reviving than a pint of correct 

 and unpalatable peptonoids. 



Besides this work, which I really like next best 

 to sitting in the den with Evan, or gardening, I've 

 done a little sewing in spite of my prejudice, and 

 absolutely made holders for the kitchen, neat car- 

 pet cookies covered with ticking, binding them prop- 

 erly about the edges with turkey red after Aunt 



