FRIENDSHIP OF FLOWERS 133 



gate to spade and hoe in an inclosure always in bloom. 

 "They never touch a thing," said a gossip. "They let 

 them grow wild, and I 'd give a basket of eggs for a slip 

 of that climbing rose." 



The city person marveled at a garden that in ten nay, 

 in twenty years had changed so little without a restrain- 

 ing or encouraging hand. No place in all the world could 

 rival the ribbon of rose woven by the May pinks, no 

 modest garden could boast of gayer color in poppies in 

 June, or cleaner day lilies when all the rest of the world 

 was battling with slugs. 



"It grows of itself. Those flowers sow their own seed 

 and spread their own roots," said the village gossip 

 decidedly. "I know that nobody touches them or even 

 comes out to smell them. Everybody goes in the back 

 way, and they receive no company." 



For all the fiction of city breeding, the city person takes 

 greatest pleasure in early rising in the country and stroll- 

 ing off to the fresh meadows before the world is awake. 

 One morning, going abroad with rod and line as the sun 

 was gilding the misty mountain tops and the village still 

 lay asleep, the way led past the old garden, and then the 

 secret was out why the growing prospered. 



Two ancient women in black with garden gloves were 

 busy with might and main, clipping, trimming, digging, 

 and watering, and at the sound of an echoing footstep on 

 the brick pavement they silently flitted indoors behind the 



