COMMUTER'S WIFE 259 



nest over in the pines last week. You've been 

 observing them, too ! " 



The chief actually blushed, stammered, then led 

 the retreat, which was made the more rapidly, as at 

 that moment Bluff, Lark, and the hounds, having 

 found my trail, nosed me out, and though naturally 

 most polite dogs, something about the conspirators 

 jarred upon them, and they said all the things that I 

 could not say. 



In the afternoon, in driving along the wood road 

 with father, I came upon the party crouching by the 

 wayside and evidently endeavouring to identify a 

 large round nest well up in an oak tree by aid 

 of a coloured picture book of birds' nests. I do not 

 think they were successful because the nest hap- 

 pened to be the old winter home of a gray squirrel ! 



June 15. Rose Sunday. A gentle shower last 

 night, together with a warm, hazy morning, has 

 unloosened hundreds of buds, and the Rose Festival 

 is now open. For two weeks at least we shall think 

 and almost eat and drink roses. Nothing rare or 

 wonderful, or large ; merely plenty of good, healthy, 

 old-fashioned roses, the only kind worth growing in 

 the garden of the commuter's wife. 



I gathered four bouquets from the great bushes this 

 morning, one for the table, one for church, one for 



