COMMUTER'S WIFE 271 



beets with their colour running well up into the foli- 

 age, and the delicate, translucent green of the long 

 heads of Trianon Cos lettuce are beautiful, while the 

 great bunches of ripening currants bring as fine a 

 colour to the vegetable garden as the oriental poppy 

 lends the parterre. Then, too, the vegetable garden 

 has, to counteract the pungent breath of cauliflower 

 and cabbage, a fragrant bouquet all its own, that is 

 distilled nightly by the dew, the breath of sage, 

 thyme, sweet marjoram, basil, and lavender. 



Yes, I am a pagan, as I have often suspected. I 

 have a material streak in me that finds intense 

 satisfaction in soup vegetables and pot herbs as 

 well as roses and honeysuckle. Sickness alone de- 

 prives me of my appetite, and I have never yet 

 been so sad or sentimental that I felt a loathing 

 for my luncheon. I think father and Evan encour- 

 age this materialism in me, and so does Martha 

 Corkle, who sees that luncheon comes to me if 

 father is not at home and outdoors bids fair to 

 hypnotize me. 



Father says that hungry sentiment develops 

 melancholy, but well-fed sentiment, enthusiasm ; so I 

 suppose that I must be an enthusiast. 



There are four great pleasures of gardening the 

 planting, the development, the gathering, and the 



