352 THE GARDEN OF A 



flowers, the last tenants in the bed of sweet 

 odours, have withstood both chill and storm and 

 given me a generous bouquet for the table, at 

 once a greeting and a good-night. A greeting for 

 the anniversary of our return, a good-night from 

 the garden. 



Evan stayed at home to-day so that it should be a 

 festival for me, even if the storm howled, and he 

 has drawn me a plan for developing, not altering, 

 the wild garden, so that everything we add may 

 be of account, while I have revised my seed and 

 plant lists ; and though there is fair-day garden 

 work for a month yet, we cannot always have a 

 November like the last. Now it is the sowing time 

 in the book garden, which we intend more than 

 ever to plant with perennials. Blessed gardens of 

 flowers and of books! Is there any phase of a 

 woman's life, either of joy or of sorrow, when you 

 will not strengthen and comfort her? 



A little before nightfall, as we were sitting in 

 the ingle nook, half dreaming, half conversing with- 

 out words, father came in hurriedly with a package, 

 which he took to the study. 



In a moment he crossed the hall and laid some- 

 thing upon the mantle-shelf under Linnaeus's por- 

 trait, trusting to my curiosity to take it down. 



