34 
A DAY’S HARD WORK 
different it is from the others. I am thinking it 
must be the red-twigged dogwood.” 
“The twigs of this one look reddish underneath, 
while above they are covered with a greenish-brown 
roughness,” I said. 
“Then it is likely to be that old-fashioned sweet 
syringa that has flowers as smooth and white as 
wax,” the old man told us. 
“These twigs look yellower.” 
“Likely another yellow, or golden bell, the same 
as the one by the west corner of the house,” Tim- 
othy said. 
“And this one?” I asked, for he seemed to be 
able to tell by the twigs the names of the shrubs. 
“It may be called Deutzia,” he answered. “You 
notice it is not very tall. Most likely it will bear 
white flowers. These three are the bridal-wreath, 
and these two are hydrangeas,” he continued. “I 
feel doubtful about this large tree-like one here, but, 
if I am not mistaken, it will turn out to be the 
smoke-bush.” 
“If that means smoke-bush, you are right,” said 
Little Joseph, and he held up the small labelled 
bit of wood he had found tied to the shrub. The 
old man nodded his head. 
“So that is what those smart gardeners call it,” 
he said. 
I then looked at the label and it read rhus cotinus, 
which we found out later was the scientific name 
for the smoke-bush. 
