234 THE GARDEN OF A 



Strange to say, he has attached himself to Tim, 

 after fretting for a time and seeming ill at ease with 

 so much space to walk about in, and a whole horse 

 stall for a bed. And Tim, who only tolerates dogs in 

 a grudging sort of way, evidently returns the feeling. 

 To-day, hearing conversation in the stable, I thought 

 Bertie was there with Tim, but found only The 

 Orphan leaning against Tim's knees and licking his 

 fingers that were feeding him scraps of meat, while 

 Tim looked positively pleasant. 



It doesn't so much matter what one loves. To 

 love is the transfiguring thing. 



March 26. To-day I found hepaticas on the wood 

 edge, and the tiny white violets that bloom almost 

 before the leaves uncurl are perfuming a dozen sun 

 spots in the garden. It is not often that wild and 

 garden flowers may be combined and keep their attri- 

 butes, but these two harmonize perfectly, and carry 

 indoors the elusive spirit of early spring. 



April i. All Fools' Day. I have planted my sweet 

 peas, a pound's weight, in a long double row in the 

 new ground beyond the sun garden. The tall nas- 

 turtiums will match them on the other side, making a 

 narrow alley of the walk where it meets the cow- 

 path to the wood lot. 



The garden will have a trick played on its trustful- 



