CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
^55 
and noticing the strange scent they waft to the nos- 
trils, It began to rain, In a way that made me know 
It was no mere garden sprinkling. We have been 
rather suspicious of rains since the great storm that 
ended In taking away our spruce tree. This rain 
appeared one that would really soak the ground, 
and was In the right quarter, Mrs. Keith said, to 
last two or three days. As long as It remains a 
sensible autumn rain, without wild gusts of wind, 
Joseph and I shall be content. He needs some 
time Indoors to think seriously about where he will 
plant the bulbs, and to settle In his mind several 
other matters. While he thinks, reads and makes 
notes In his book, the rain will be doing much 
towards preparing the soil. But Mrs. Keith has 
suggested that I bestir myself In the linen closet, 
and plan about curtains to hang up for the winter. 
This Is different work from that In my rosarium 
and roving about the garden helping Joseph. I 
suppose I shall mind It less when the flowers are 
actually dead, or sleeping under the snow. 
From the wood-border the trees are waving 
branches all golden or scarlet. The sumacs grow- 
ing by the roadways are flaming red, while over 
our wall the Vrginia creepers have become more 
deeply hued each day. The rain now Is preying 
on these colours. It Is taking from them their 
sparkle, blending them all together. From the 
library window, we see the leaves falling. They 
