1^5 35oS CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Miss H.B.Stimner Cornell University Library PS 3503.A83J9 Judith's garden. 3 1924 022 248 805 The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022248805 ■^. J 4, V. ■^' '^i> .>.!/ ^XJ? C- \^C LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANr. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED '•> Published May, igo2 ^•i Norwood Prat J. S. CUsbing Sf Co. — Berwick fif Smith Noriuood, Mais., U.S.A. TO MY HUSBAND H, the green things growing, the green things growing, The faint sweet smell of the green things growing ! r should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing. " I love, I love them so, — my green things growing'. And I think that they love me, withotit false showing; For by many a tender touch, they comfort me so much. With the soft mute comfort of green things growing.''^ CONTENTS CHAPTER I. I INTRODUCE MY GARDENER . II. The Cottage by the River III. I ENJOY Myself .... IV. I LEARN OF Ellen Patty V. A Righteous Slaughter VI. I AM talked about VII. The Bittern's Nest VIII. I CLAIM A Few Things . IX. My First Glimpse of Priscilla . X. " A Good Garden is a Continued Delight, a Paradise" . XI. I LET MY Soul Grow . XII. I ENTERTAIN CALLERS . S 9 36 SI 72 84 93 loi 118 I2S 134 I4S 158 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XIII. I BUILD AN Am Castle . . 177 XIV. Her Home 191 XV. A Delightful Morning . . 232 XVI. I introduce a Relative . . 245 XVII. I FIND A Successful Hiding Place 259 XVIII. I SOLVE A Problem . . .268 XIX. I PAY A Visit to my Aunt . . 274 XX. August Days 286 XXI. A Willing Messenger . . . 294 XXII. My Greenhouse .... 301 XXIII. I buy Orchids . . . .316 XXIV. I receive my Reward . . . 327 ILL U STRA riONS " I pointed out the elfish faces that most ap- pealed to me " . . . . Frontispiece " Pat appeared not to watch me " . 44 " ' Oh, yes,' said one, ' I know Max Elliot ; we were schoolmates '" . . . -95 " The moment Donald Warren looked at her, I counted his heart well lost " . . . 296 y\ I INTRODUCE Mr GARDENER AD I never fallen ill, I might never have had a garden ; and without a gar- den, what use could I have had for a gardener ? So you, my dear reader, would have lost the privilege of know- ing Patrick Monahan — the gentlest, : kindliest old Irishman alive. For one , joyful summer he was my daily com- panion, and his sound sense and ever ready wit rendered my ideal garden a practical blooming spot on earth. y\ lO JUDITH'S GARDEN I remember perfectly the day I was taken ill. My head felt strangely light, and the sense of decency and decorum, which always enables me to tell a polite falsehood, had van- ished. For once in my life I told the bare truth. I admitted to my- self that I was tired of doing the things I did not like to do; I even mocked at Duty, " Fie, fie ! " said Duty, "you cannot escape me," and she fell to urging me, in a pious, lifeless voice, to go upstairs and do the weekly mending. I told Duty, flatly, that I hated a needle ; and I truly believed the little shining pointed thing had killed more \ women than all the diseases under the sun, — the mending could and would wait. Just then Miss Singleton called. '->r JUDITH'S GARDEN II From my very soul I dislike Miss Singleton. You know yourself, there are people one can't like. She was of that sort, — a pious, fussy woman, exerting herself dreadfully hard to get to heaven. Of late she had taken to foreign missions. Now she had called to exhort me to join the missionary society. Had I been myself, I should have concocted a polite excuse — expressed a mock sorrow, and gently refused her; but as it was, I took an unholy delight in replying to that woman. I told her I did not intend to join I any society. She inquired, sadly, if I did not feel concerned in the welfare of my antipode brother. Now I have nothing in the world XX 12 JUDITH'S GARDEN against the heathen. I like him as well as any one else I am not ac- quainted with. It was Miss Single- ton I objected to. I wanted her to go away and leave me alone. So I told her, plainly, I rarely thought of the heathen, unless he were specially called to my mind ; and never think- ing of him, how could I worry for him.'' Miss Singleton left with horror on her countenance; but I have heard since, she excused me, saying, "She was not herself that day, poor dear ! " I only fear I was too truly myself. I You know as well as I, we women keep our real selves behind bars, and it is our mock selves that daily appear. The next person who happened at my parlour door was my cook. For JUDITH'S GARDEN 13 several years I had stood in awe of her ; in truth, I feared her so greatly that I was forever propitiating her. This afternoon she looked wrathful and much upset. " Shure, mum," she exclaimed (stand- ing upon the threshold, arms akimbo), " the work in this house is more than I kin attind to ; I've decided to lave." Now, as she had reached this decision countless times before, but had always relented at my humble persuasions, Mary Ellen was some- what surprised at my answer. " Indeed," said I, " I am delighted , to hear it ! " (I felt more like telling the truth.) " I only wish you had gone a year ago. The knee-bones to my pride are quite worn through persuad- ing you to stay." ^\ H JUDITH'S GARDEN She appeared speechless with amaze- ment. I resumed my novel. By and by, she said in a still small voice, " Sha'n't I fetch ye a cup of tay, mum ? Ye look pale." " No, thank you," I replied sweetly. When she had returned to the inferno (I mean the kitchen, but sometimes the term seems synonymous) I fell to thinking of her endless round of mo- notonous duties ; of the tons of dishes that must yearly be cleansed. After all, was it any wonder that poor Mary Ellen's soul grew downward instead I of upward.'' The time her mother's cousin took sick and Mary Ellen went to nurse her, did I not follow day after day in >er foot-tracks.? No angel from the JUDITH'S GARDEN IS serene spheres could have looked more beautiful to me than Mary Ellen (bundle under her arm), standing up- on my threshold, returned from a long week's absence. Had I followed the dictates of my own self, I should have kissed the dear thing, showed her my burned and blackened hands ; but no, my mock self merely said : — " Good-evening, Mary Ellen ; you're back, I see. There are chops in the refrigerator to broil for breakfast." Then I flew up the back stairs, into the library, and dashing round the room three times, to be rid of my superflu- ous joy, I cried out to my husband, Max, Mary Ellen has come back ! " " Thank God ! " said he. I recollect how uninteresting my novel proved that day. At length it xx (> ^' i6 JUDITH'S GARDEN dropped into my lap, and I sat in the fast gathering twilight, thinking thoughts that perhaps no one but Edgar Allan Poe and myself ever dared to think before. I often hope, when my judgment day comes, the angels will be out on errands, and God and I just alone. There was no use in trying to per- suade myself that I loved duty more than pleasure. I owned up to the naked truth, and declared myself a fail- ure. I told God I wanted to be real, real happy and not the least bit mis- erable ; to enjoy myself every day and have nothing to trouble me. I didn't want any cares or duties or tQ have people expecting things of me; I just wished to be wholly, wholly selfish! Of course, I was not myself that day(.?). JUDITH'S GARDEN 17 By and by, a disagreeable thing we call conscience came and smote me. It asked why my spirit was forever building air castles to dwell in, when it ought to be stopping at home digging the dust from corners and sweeping down the cobwebs. It made me reflect upon the little we had to live upon, and yet how se- renely I spent that little ; for I am neither practical nor saving. Maybe I should die in the poor-house ? Well, if it came to that, I hoped the poor- house would be in the country, and the paupers would have to cultivate a garden. (I could enjoy that.) Then I hoped there would be a clover field near, and a wood in the background. I grew so interested, planning the sort of a poor-house I would like to 'A i8 JUDITH'S GARDEN die in, that I forgot all about con- science. In truth, it began to appear like a hardship, should anything pre- vent me from dying there; when, suddenly, snap! went something in my head. A strange giddiness over- came me. I waved good-by to the poor-house and knew no more. When I awoke, weeks had gone by. Where they had fled I shall never know. It had been one of those strange, calm periods of oblivion, when one's real self goes away and some imp of mischief takes possession. I have heard since that the imp said strange things, and took great liber- ties with my earthly body. I know my return found it in sad condition ; but such is nearly always the case with a rented tenement. JUDITH'S GARDEN 19 The first sound I noted was the merry chirp of a robin outside my window. " Back again, lusty red- breast," I thought ; " why, it must be spring is near. To-morrow I will pick lint for your nest." Then I real- ised that some one was bending over me, and out of a blue haze, like Indian summer, came Max's face. The dear old fellow (not that he is so very old, I just call him that) looked frightfully worried. The locks of hair above his ears were quite grey. " Do you know me ? " he whispered. " Yes," I said — oh, so faintly ! " I should know you in Spain, — your necktie is awry." " Still criticising, my lady ! You've come back to stay." y\ 20 JUDITH'S GARDEN Then he sat down and sobbed, like a soft-hearted baby. That convalescent period was not the most cheerful epoch in my life. You know it is far harder to get well than to fall ill ; and for my part, I had rather be quite sick than half sick : if you are quite sick you think you may die, and earthly worries fade; but if you are only half sick, dying gets into the background and every little mis- erable worry seems to hug your pil- low. Pestiferous frets that one would need a microscope to find when well, seem large enough to grace a mu- seum as veritable giants. I never realised before that I had so many duties. Why, the room was full of duties ! and whenever any one opened a door I saw a whole crowd y JUDITH'S GARDEN 21 of them waiting outside, ready to push in. I used to wish I might evoke the spirit of Catherine de' Medici's esteemed courtier, and bid him mix me a poison to kill off duties. I discovered that I was losing the faculty of building air castles ; for just as soon as I got one nicely con- structed, a duty would move into, it, — and whoever heard of an air castle built for a duty.? When a friend called, my mind would revert with frightful rapidity to what I knew was an undusted par- lour, with curtains all awry and pic- tures hung on the bias. One night I dreamed I saw my silver coffee-urn dancing before me on legs shamefully in need of polish. % 22 JUDITH'S GARDEN " See how things are going on," hissed this same urn ; " you had best make haste and get well." Make haste and get well ! Did you ever try it? If you have, you know all about it ; and if you have not, well, — there is no use of prying into disagreeable things. I made haste, but I did not get well. Day after day I struggled, but to no purpose ; and after a time, a luminous thought came to me : " Why should I take such trouble to live.'' I should cer- tainly be obliged to die sometime ; why not now ? It might never be so easy again — I might not be so recon- ciled. Surely, it was best to slip away quietly and make an end to it. Only a peaceful little mound in the grave- yard, and a respite from duties." JUDITH'S GARDEN 23 " A respite from duties ! " I looked around the room, so crowded with those pious, long-faced creatures, and chuckled. I should outwit them yet. I began to plan my long journey. To plan has always been my great- est resource, my one loophole of es- cape from the disagreeable things of life. In a room full of people, if I am not interested, I can fall to plan- ning and see them all fade away. The longest and most tedious sermon is delightful to me when I have a plan on hand. I recollect well, when our minister preached his last doc- trinal sermon, I planned to make over my winter hat — trimmed it, and was just sewing on the last ostrich feather when he said " Amen." I fear I lost sight of the gravity of &0 a ^1 24 JUDITH'S GARDEN death, in planning how I should look as an angel. I wondered what sort of a robe I should wear, and how long my wings would be. What should I do.? It occurred to me there were gardens in Paradise. Maybe the Lord would let me work in one of those gardens ; dig and plant and sow to my heart's content. Then I should be satisfied. Having settled my own occupation, my thoughts turned to Max. Of course I should wish him to marry again. I was not so utterly selfish as to desire a young man to spend a lifetime alone. He must certainly have a second wife. It gave me no little trouble to pick her out. I did not want her to be too good-looking, for in that case. Max might forget y\ w JUDITH'S GARDEN 25 me ; neither did I want her to be too homely, for then Max might be un- happy. I fully realised what a task I had on hand. Just then the doctor arrived. " Little woman," he said, smiling down upon me, "you are not getting well as fast as you ought." " It is too much trouble, doctor," I replied. " I've given it up." He looked very grave. " That won't do," he said. "Yes it will," I returned. "Don't you know, in this great universe, when one goes out, it is like a tiny drop of water spilled from a great ocean." " Fudge ! " he said, turned his broad back, and began to mix the medicines. I don't believe there is any need to fear the valley of death ; for then and -v\ y^ 26 JUDITH'S GARDEN there I went down into it. I found it dark only a little way, then light came. Beautiful flowers sprang along my pathway ; I heard the sweet carol of birds, and saw before me that shim- mering misty veil which separates us from the great beyond. A moment more, I should have parted that veil and passed into the light forever; but a voice called me. It was a tender, insistent voice — not Max's, or any relative's, but the voice of a woman who is strangely congenial to me. We have always thought alike. She is just as foolish and unpractical as myself, but oh, infinitely braver! " Come back," she called ; " I have need of you." My friend was close beside me % Oz^Jl ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 27 when I opened my eyes ; my breezy, out-door, forest-loving friend ! She, to whom I told the very secrets of my nature, — the one being who wholly understood and sympathised with me. As I looked at her, the great, wholesome, awakening spring seemed to steal in at the door. I saw the glad home-coming of the birds; and as my friend bent over me, she threw into my arms a handful of daffodils — lusty yellow blooms, fresh from mother earth. In a happy dream, I heard her repeat Wordsworth's lines : — I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high, o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils ; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. & ^' 28 JUDITH'S GARDEN The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay. In such a jocund company; I gazed and gazed — but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought. For oft, wfien on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood. They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude ; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. I felt that I should get well. Get well ! every day health seemed springing to meet me. My friend sat by my bed, and read to me a book written by a woman who loved a I garden. Poor soul ! she was of high degree, and it was denied her the pleasure of digging and planting her own soil. She felt this to be a great sacrifice to blue blood. %/ ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 29 That she was a quaint, curious soul, we both a.greed ; and we loved her. We told ourselves that Elizabeth must have originally inhabited the same planet from which we sprang. It was not likely we should ever meet her on this sphere ; but we sent her some good invigorating thoughts. Perhaps you have noticed, after be- ing very ill, with returning health, how anxious people are to do for you ? This only goes to prove that the green old earth is inhabited by true and lov- ing souls ; that good is everywhere in spite of evil. Even Mary Ellen treated her slave royally. She made me broths that I never expected of her ; and my toast had not a burned edge. Such is the kindness of the Irish heart. s^i JUDITH'S GARDEN Dear old Max was devotion itself. One day he inquired what I should most like. " To make a garden," I replied. Max smiled ; he is an editor, and knows nothing about a garden, unless it is to weigh a pumpkin, or to praise a beet in behalf of some country patron. " You know," he said gently, " we cannot afford to hire a professional gardener." " Who wants one 1 " I exclaimed indignantly. " Why, who will dig the beds and plant the seeds ? " " I, myself." He laughed outright. " You little mite of a woman," he said; "why, you are so thin, if there were a crack in heaven you could slip through it. I JUDITH'S GARDEN 31 imagine I see you digging and plant- ing a garden." He kissed me and went away. When people have something to tell you, how very important they appear ! Their aura seems surcharged with ex- pectancy. I knew Max had some- thing to tell me the moment he entered my room that night. I was sitting propped up in bed, partaking of gruel. I have always had the most sublime contempt for gruel, but now, with returning appe- tite, and not being allowed any other sort of food, I looked upon it as ambrosia. When my too scanty bowl- ful was eaten, I indulged in plans concerning gruel. I originated and compounded seventy different kinds of gruel, and seriously meditated pub- ^' 32 JUDITH'S GARDEN lishing the recipes the moment I was out of bed. " Hallo, there," said Max, jovially ; " here's news for you ! Tom Norton has rented me his cottage on the river ^-Sm bank for the summer. He is going to take his family to Europe." I eagerly swallowed the last re- maining drop of gruel. " I closed with him," continued Max, "at a most reasonable figure; and now, sweetheart, if you hurry up and get well, you can start that garden right early." Pretty soon he said seriously, " There is something else I must tell you. Mary Ellen gave warning this noon. Her mother's cousin is down S ~v\ with the lumbago, and Mary Ellen feels it her solemn duty to go and nurse her." JUDITH'S GARDEN 33 A diminished supply of gruel in- stantly rose like a black cloud before me. "Don't look that way," said Max, " listen : this very afternoon your washer-woman, black Rhoda, sent me word that Jim, her husband, died last week; and if you were needing help, she could come and cook for you." "What a dispensation of Provi- dence!" I murmured. " Do you mean the death of Jim ? " " No, indeed ; only, you see, I can't exist without a cook ; and black Rhoda is perfection." I know of no tonic that equals pleasant anticipations. Before I slept that night I had laid out a garden that never can or will blossom on this earth. To please me, Max had writ- a % ^' 34 JUDITH'S GARDEN ten to a number of florists for cata- logues. He had gotten down my pocket-book that I might count my allowance and decide just how much I could spend for seeds and plants. I could not spend all my money, for I needed a new bonnet. I mentally planned the bonnet and proceeded to reduce it. (This is an excellent way to get at things.) In my mind's eye I decided it looked too fussy. I ripped off a bow — price, fifty cents — and de- voted it to primrose seeds. I decided to dispense with part of the artificial bouquet — cost, one dollar. With pro- ceeds purchased some hardy, delight- ful, yellow hollyhocks. A cheaper ribbon I thought might do, — cost less, fifty cents. Bought three packages of mignonette seed. Decided to ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 35 dispense with the ribbon altogether, — one dollar. Bought a dozen golden glows. Determined to trim the hat at home, saving a dollar and a quar- ter; lumped the whole sum into sweet peas. So I kept on, until I beheld be- fore my dismayed eyes only the bare frame to my bonnet. Now it was no longer becoming or useful. I turned it into larkspurs; and while admiring their tall blue watch-towers, I fell asleep. lS1 iT^^ ^^^^^ C?m^ J^M/ Ldi^^v '^^ ^' THE COTTAGE BY II THE RIVER HY have I devo- ted a whole chap- ter of my story to telling you about an illness, that to a well body seems little short of disgrace? Yet, I feel sure you will condone my fault, when you recollect — after your own long illness — how fond you were of relating your symptoms to sym- pathising friends, — telling them how very, very low you were. Is it not a sort of compensation for ill health, ?6 ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 37 this too evident enjoyment in talking about it? Had I been a well-regulated person, I should, no doubt, have felt remorse at leaving my household lares and penates; but being ill regulated, I coolly locked the door on my own possessions and moved into Mr. Nor- ton's cottage. The cottage boasted but six rooms and a little detached kitchen back, with a bedroom over it, devoted to black Rhoda. The floors were all covered with cool green matting, and the side walls wainscoted with the same. The furniture was willow — simple and cleanly. I must not forget to add that all the lamps possessed rose-tinted silk shades, making a har- mony of colour that greatly pleased me. ^1 38 JUDITH'S GARDEN The place was delightfully situated upon the bank of a swift-flowing little river, which emptied itself into a lake (shining like a great mirror) not a half mile away. Back, was the garden, and just beyond it a grove. Mr. Norton, who drove up from town the day after we arrived, ap- peared greatly concerned as to the garden. He seemed to possess an abnormal conscience. " I shall have to confess," he said solemnly, " that I myself was an en- thusiast at gardening ; yet all I could raise here was a crop of insects most astonishing." " What sort of seeds did you sow ? " I inquired. " Why, flower seeds, to be sure. Do you see those roses, yonder.? y'\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 39 Last year, just as I had got them started, a perfect cyclone of insects struck them and stripped them of their leaves. " And here," said he, mournfully, " was my aster bed. A cloud of swift- winged beetles hovered over it and ate the buds before they could blos- som. In that corner I had holly- hocks ; they took the blight. The sweet peas turned brown at the roots and faded. The nasturtiums fell victims to a long green worm, which ate faster than I could grow the plants. All this was quite disheart- ening ; and since your husband has related to me how you have planned a garden, I feel I must tell you the truth, even if you determine to leave the place and move back to town." ^\ 40 JUDITH'S GARDEN He heaved a deep sigh and con- tinued, " The vegetable garden fared no better. My cabbages and tomatoes took a worm, and the potato plants grew so densely populated that I hired a man to dig them up and burn them." If it had not been such a pleasant day, the sky so divinely blue and the river shining in such merry sparkles through the trees, my heart must have sunk at these mournful descriptions of facts. But whoever profited by another's failure .? I told Mr. Norton I was still undaunted and cheerfully waved him adieu. Next morning, as I stood on the steps of the piazza, drinking in the glory of a perfect April day, I heard a stir behind me, and looking down, be- held the funniest old Irishman alive. :v^i JUDITH'S GARDEN 41 He was a short man, thin and wiry, with a long, shrewd face framed in iron-grey hair. A pair of pale blue eyes twinkled humorously under bushy eyebrows ; and there was a sort of ruddy glow to his complexion which made him appear wholesome. I knew, at a glance, his had been an outdoor life. He was dressed in a checked gingham blouse and blue jean overalls. An old felt hat clung to the back of his head, and over his shoulder were a hoe and a rake. " The top o' the mornin' to ye, mum," he said politely ; " I've come to garden." " Are you the man my husband hired ? " " Bedad, I am. Ses he to me yis- terday, ' Me wife wants a gardener.' Xx ^y 42 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Ses I to him, ' Oim the man fur her.' " Ses he to me, ' D'ye love flowers ? ' " Ses I to him, ' I'll lave the posies to tell ye that ' ; so I've come to garden." " Can you stay all summer } " I asked. " I can live and die wid yese," he replied. " Then we may as well get to work," I said, smiling ; " but you must remember, I am to be obeyed." " I'll not be forgettin' yer the boss." In an instant there was good com- radeship between us. We stepped briskly across the lawn, — two dimin- utive figures, one in a red skirt and grey wash waist, with a straw hat on her head and a pair of loose garden- ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 43 gloves to protect her hands ; the other, the stubby little Irishman, with hoe and rake across his shoulder. I produced a chalk line, and Pat began to lay out a large bed on the lawn. In my mind's eye, I had seen this bed before. It was one of my cherished plans that it should become a great bloom of yellow stock. Now, as we marked it out, a long- ing possessed me to help dig it up. There was nothing in the world to hinder me from digging. I thanked God I was only a common individual who could do as she pleased. It pleased me to dig. " Bring two spades," I said to Pat, " I shall assist you." He went away, and returned pres- ently with these implements of gar- ^' 44 JUDITH'S GARDEN dening, — one old and rusty, the other new and shining. " Which will ye tak', mum ? " he asked gravely. " The new one, of course." Standing, tool in hand, I directed Pat to begin at one end of the bed while I attacked the other ; then I jabbed my spade into the short, coarse grass. I struggled valiantly, but I could not turn a sod. Pat appeared not to watch me, but kept lifting the brown earth with rhythmic precision. At last, very red in the face, and not a little wrathful, I threw down the spade. " It is dull and needs sharp- ening," I said. " Did yese think, mum," chuckled Pat, " thim little hands o' yourn could XI *V' } (' " jiAT APPi:ARi:n not to watch urs: H :i:s3«xxca5ixM JUDITH'S GARDEN 45 turn the great brown sods? I'll do the diggin' whilst ye stick to the bossin'." So we began our garden. When the bed lay smooth and dark against the green grass, ready for the seeds, two hardy robins pounced down upon it, and with stout yellow beaks, dragged forth reluctant worms. They gobbled them like gourmands, then flew away with a merry, " cheep, cheep ! " as if thanking us for making things so easy. I fell into a brown study over this particular bed. " Should I sow it to yellow stock, or should I not } " Pat solved the problem. " Phwat wud ye think, mum, to put red pinies in the middle o' the bed, and then plant marygoold all '-^\ 46 JUDITH'S GARDEN round 'em? 'Twould make a foine sight ! " " Marigolds and peonies do not bloom together," I repHed severely ; for such a desecration of my garden made me shudder. " No more do they," said Pat ; " shure, I'd forgot. Then phwat wid ye say to a cockcumb or a prin- cess feather .? " The poor old soul looked so simple that I was fain to hide my true feel- ings. My mind was made up. " We will sow this bed entirely to yellow stock," I said. " How lovely it will look flaring out from yonder background of blue pines ; quite like a cheerful bonfire." I hastened in for the seeds. If Pat had had the pleasure of ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 47 7V digging the bed, it should be my good pleasure to sow it. I knelt and dropped the tiny black globules into shallow trenches, made by the handle of the hoe ; then I raked the loose earth gently over them, all the time breathing a prayer to the God of Nature, that the yellow stock might grow. By night, we (Pat, I mean) had dug up all the beds laid out by the enthu- siastic but too easily discouraged Tom Norton. One we sowed to poppies ; another, to mignon- and still another, to blue lark- There was a long row of four- o'clocks, which led from Rhoda's kitchen door clear down to the little spring at the end of the garden. How gay they would look all in giant ette; spur. y^ y\ 48 JUDITH'S GARDEN bloom ! Where the ugly board fence shuts off a pasture, we planted our yellow and pink and white holly- hocks ; strong sturdy plants that I had purchased from a florist, and were guaranteed to grow. The bright red hollyhocks we set in a clump by them- selves, for I dearly love intense splotches of colour. The ugly ice- house was to be completely hidden by morning glories. I was having the best time jabbing chubby morning-glory seeds into the moist earth, when a voice startled me. " Gardener, how doth thy posies grow } " I looked up into Max's laughing face. " You home, already ! " I exclaimed. " Why, what time is it ? " JUDITH'S GARDEN. 49 3-1 He held out his watch. It was six o'clock. Where had the day fled ? I looked into the western sky already tinged with gold from the departing sun, and realised that it was surely gone. Here I stood, clad in the same gown that I had donned upon rising. For me, in the delightful occupation of gardening, time had ceased to be. " Max," I said solemnly, " I never understood before what it means in the Bible, where it says, ' A thousand years are but a moment in the house of the Lord.' David must have been gardening when he wrote that." " How do you like your Irish gar- dener ? " asked my husband, irrele- vantly. " I love him ! " I cried enthusiasti- .1^ ^' I ENjor MYSELF III WISH I could de- scribe my garden in such glowing terms that every woman in the world would want a garden. What an exodus there would be from the cities, and what a scrambling after every available bit of land ! Truly, then, the desert would blossom like the rose, and the women who are tired, sick, and dis- couraged, would grow healthy and happy; for discontent never stops SI ^' 52 JUDITH'S GARDEN long in a garden, or unhappiness ffi«s^ either. If the whole world took to gar- dening like me, milliners would be oc/n^ with good intentions and they never come up. I feel like weeping when I think of the lost opportunities of my garden. According to my own calcula- tion, my summer bonnet was sown in vain. Not a seed arose from that sacri- fice ; yet I devoted the whole amount of it to packages — guaranteed to grow. Pat said, " Shure, the sile was too dhry fur 'em ! " "No, Pat," I replied; "I watered them every day, myself." " Thin, they wor too wet." v^ -y\ " That could not be." " Wall, then," concluded Pat, "seeds is loike some folk, — they niver does y\ 74 JUDITH'S GARDEN phwat yer expectin' o' 'em; they're thot contrarie." I looked regretfully at my bed of giant poppies ; at the bare borders that ought now to be covered with green annuals. I resolved to sow more seed — even should I sacrifice my winter bonnet. I hurried into the house and wrote the order; then I returned to the garden. Pat met me with a little twinkle in his eye which suggested all sorts of pleasant surprises. He informed me that he had " fotched " me something. We hurried down the path to the brook ; and there, laid carefully on the bank, were several great tufts of for- get-me-nots, — all alive with tiny blue flowers. " Ain't thim a sight to faste yer <-n JUDITH'S GARDEN 75 eye ? " said Pat, — " the swate dar- lints!" and the old man removed his hat and knelt before the offering. " Arrah, thim's the flowers fur me ; I loves 'em ! " " Indeed, they are beautiful, Pat. Where did you get them ? " " Shure, 'twas this mornin' as I was whalkin' thru' the medder, I met the limb o' Satan. She wor sane enuf, this toime. Ses she to me, ' Good- mornin', Mr. Monahan ! ' " Ses I to her, ' The top o'the mornin' to ye, Belinda ! ' " Ses she to me, ' Thanks, fur ketchin' o' the hin.' " ' Don't mintion it,' ses I. " Ses she, ' I hear yer new missus loves flowers.' " ' Bedad, that she does,' ses I. % ^' 76 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Ses she, ' May loike she'd be pleased with some fur-git-me-nots ? ' Thin she led me to a turn in the crick, and, by me howly soul ! if there warn't a whole patch o' 'em ; planted years agone by Hitty Allen. They wor as blue as the sky. " ' Hilp yerself,' ses she. " I dug up some, thin I picked a bokay fur ye ; " and Pat held up a great bunch of the tiny blue flowers. He did not give them to me at once; but stood looking at them, a wholly tender light in his little faded blue eyes. " Arrah," he said softly, " 'tis back forty year and more the sight o' thim flowers takes me, — whin I left the ould country for Ameriky. Shure, I'd kissed the ould folks w JUDITWS GARDEN 77 good-by, and wid me bundle over me shoulder, I was jest shteppin' out o' the lane, when I met Ellen Patty. " Ellen Patty was not much to me, thim days ; for I was just a lad runnin' over wid adventure ; but thar she stood in the lane, dressed in a frock as pink as a June rose, her sunbunnit hiding her eyes, and in her hand a bunch o' furgit-me-nots. " ' Good-by, Ellen Patty,' ses I. " ' Good-by, Pat,' ses she in a trim- bling voice. ' Here, tak these furgit- me-nots. I picked 'em fresh from the braes fur ye.' " As I tuk the swate blue flowers, me heart slipt out o' me brist for Ellen Patty. I knew thin she wor the one lass in the world for me ; but there was na toime fur courtin'. J^ n 78 JUDITH'S GARDEN " ' God bless ye, Ellen Patty ! ' ses I. ' I'll niver furgit ye. Say once ye love me, that I may be hearted fur me long journey.' " Shure, I had to bend close to hear the answer, her voice wor so low and swate. Ses she, ' I love ye, Pat; and Til alius be faithful to ye.' " Thin I stole a kiss from her red lips, and clapping me bundle over me shoulder agin, I made off. I have thim furgit-me-nots yit." Pat dug the toe to a stubby boot into the gravelled walk. " Did you return and marry Ellen Patty?" I asked. " I didna," said Pat. " I married Brid- get Flannigan. She's a good cook." " But what became of Ellen Patty ? " il--^ ;q. JUDITH'S GJRDEN 79 " Phwat becomes of thim ye loves best?" murmured Pat; "shure, they dies. Ellen Patty's little feet strayed hivenward. E'er I'd bin but one short year in Ameriky, they wrote me she wor dead." "Oh, Pat!" But the old man was bending over the forget-me-nots, and I could not JSfi vi\K s^^ his face. " After a toime," he said, in a ^ short, dry voice, " I up and married me ould woman." " And she makes you a good wife .? " " Shure," he replied ; " no one will ^f y starve round Bridget. She's grate fur atein'. Begorra, but she's fotched her own weight up to nigh three hundred pounds. 'Tis a sight she is." •-51^ :v^< ^' 80 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Does she love flowers, Pat ? " " Flowers is it ? Bridget love flow- ers! If I so much as set a posy in me yard, she'll plant a cabbage top o' it. There's nothin' she hates loike flowers. She ses they're no good a-tall a-tall, since they can't be biled an' ate." Pat began to dig viciously along the bank of the stream; now he bent and placed a tuft of forget-me- nots. " Have you any children, Pat ? " "We had jest one," he said, in a low voice ; " a wee bit o' lass." "And — .?" " Shure, she died, too. " Whin she wor born," said he, presently, "me and Bridget got into words. Ses I, ' We'll call her Ellen % \(7 A 7 >e:^^v/ ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 8i Patty.' Ses me wife, ' No, we'll call her Mary Ann, after me sister.' Ses I, ' We won't' Ses she, ' We will.' " So we argyed the thing, fur six weeks at laste ; then I sint fur the praste. " 'Twor a foine day the father come. Ses I to him, 'Shure, Father Dougherty, how would ye loike a row on the lake.?' " ' Jest the thing,' ses he; ' I'd loike it.' " So I tuk the best sofy cushion and a bit o' carpet, and fixed up the boat suitable to his riverence; thin we rowed out on the shinin' wather, and twixt two hivens, as it wor, I told him the story of me love fur Ellen Patty. " Whin I'd done, ses he, soft loike. s^i XI §^1 % a^Ji ^' 82 JUDITH'S GARDEN ' Why don't ye name yer baby Fur- git-me-not? 'Twill always remind ye of Ellen Patty.' " Shure, me wife could not shtand out aginst his riverence ; so the baby got the name." "How long did she live, Pat?" " Four years. She wor ould enuf to call me daddy, an' to love me. Many's the day I tuk her wid me, and I alius cared fur her the night. Shure, she'd that love fur posies, 'twould do yer heart good to see her, smilin' an crowin' at thim ; an' she wor always noticin' the birds an pintin' to 'em. One night she tuk the croup and died." Pat huddled the earth around an- other bunch of forget-me-nots. " Sumtoimes," said he, slowly, " I've f I % y\ A RIGHTEOUS SLAUGHTER F I were a Buddh- ist, I wonder what would become of Tom Norton's rose bed ? The rivalry of Buddha and the rose! I know : in such a case, all of those poor green insects would be left to live — to thrive upon rose leaves, while the poor Buddhist must gaze upon mere skeletons of bushes and still thank Allah. •However, being but a hardened barbarian of a western world, I have 84 JUDITH'S GARDEN 85 been very busy mixing poisons, guar- anteed to kill. Pat and I have spent hours in what I call, "righteous slaughter." Behold the result: Mr. Norton's despised rose bushes are looking green and vigorous ; they are putting forth a multitude of buds that delight my very heart. This garden would be a good field for a naturalist. The variety of bugs is endless. What use they form in creation puzzles me, unless it is to distract the heart of a gardener. Per- haps, if there were no bugs, gardens would all become earthly paradises, and the people that dwell in them would never sigh for heaven. As it is, to be a good gardener, one must have an eye out for bugs, — bugs # ^' 86 JUDITH'S GARDEN that work while you sleep ; bugs that never tire. To be as healthy as a bug, means something ; for, according to my observation, bugs and weeds are the healthiest things in existence. ' '{Yf^ The other day, as I was passing a hedge of vigorous golden glows, I noticed the stems covered with what looked like red thorns. " Thorns, on the glows ! " I ex- claimed. Pat was wiser; he looked more closely, and said in a disgusted tone: — " Begorra, them's bugs ! " " Oh no," I wailed. " Yes, bugs, ivery one — rid divils ! " " Run for the poison, Pat," I cried, "while I hunt for the syringe." When we had finished, the ground cvw % ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 87 was literally red from slaughter. Oh, why must this be ? " I hate bugs," said Pat. " 'Tis the divil's own work, the makin' o' em." " God made everything," I said solemnly. "Whoo!" cried Pat. "Ye'd niver ketch the A'mighty a-thriflin' wid bugs ; 'tis the divil himself what makes 'em. Shure, that ould spalpeen is so put out at seein' the flowers grow strong an' purty, that he's whottled round and invinted bugs to clinch 'em. " I remimbers," he continued, " whin I was small, I once visited me uncle. He wor a gardener at a juke's place, near Dublin. Begorra, but that wor a foine place! — the juke's summer home. The garden was full of stattys. y\ 88 JUDITH'S GARDEN that looked live enuf to talk, and the % flowers were jest illigant ! You cu'd pick a bushel o' roses, an' niver miss 'em. " One mornin' the jukess came to whalk in the garden. I remimber her as if 'twor yisterday. She was big and fat from good livin'. Shure, she'd fetched her weight up to two hundred pounds or more. Her face was as red as a piny, and she wore a frock that was a caution — 'twor satin, all imbroidered over wid lilies. Wall, as she wor a-whalkin' along, me uncle stepped out from behint a statty, an' ses he, bowin' low : — " ' Good-mornin', yer highness'; then he hild out to her a bokay of illigant flowers. " She tuk 'em, haughty loike ; an' '/iz'\ X^l y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 89 jest as she wor a-shmellin' o' 'em, be- dad ! if the' gran 'est worm, a full inch long, didn't crawl out o' thim flowers on to the royal nose. " She let out a shrake that lifted the hair o' me. ' Wow ! wow ! ' ses she ; thin she threw thim flowers and fell down on the garden whalk in a shwoon. " Shure, that dommed worm cost me uncle his place. The jukess could niver look at him agin widout think- in' o' it, and a-turnin' faint, so she plead with the juke to turn me uncle off." " She wasn't much of a woman ! " I said indignantly. " Shure, that's the way wid the qual- ity, mum. Me uncle had a wife and tin childers, but she niver thought o' ^' 90 JUDITH'S GARDEN thot. Next year he hired out to a lord; and shure, when the lordess cum out to whalk, me uncle continted himself wid bowin' an' wishin' her the top o' the mornin'." " Was it with your uncle that you first learned to garden, Pat ? " " It wor. Me uncle tuk a shine to me. Ses he, ' Pat, thar's good shtuff in ye ; for I see ye love flowers.' His own childers, ivery one o' 'em, wor set aginst gardenin'. Shure, they hated it; and I think 'twas this broke me uncle's heart. He died young." "What age was he, Pat.? " "Jist turned fifty, whin a sun- shtroke tuk him off, suddent." Pat's face was very grave as he picked up the poison and walked away. ^ y\ JUDITWS GARDEN 91 m I was not at all cast down. A sort of triumph filled me as I looked at the ground, strewn with slaughtered insects, and then at the sturdy golden glows, rid of their dreadful pest. Now they could grow and be beauti- ful; and their sunny blooms should be their " Thank you," to me. I sauntered along the garden path ttntil I came to the sweet peas. How fresh and hardy these little green vines always looked, springing up from the brown earth, clinging to the wire trellis, and ever climbing to reach a soft blue ocean of air, where they might unfurl their tinted silken sails. Could it be that something ailed my sweet peas .^ Some of their crisp leaves were turning a dingy ;^ -Vi ^' 92 JUDITH'S GARDEN Vlfc brown ; and there was a sickly look over all. I hurriedly knelt among them, and peering up under the vines, beheld a whole regiment of the green aphides, hard at work. For the next two hours Pat and I attended strictly to business ; even Rhoda was beguiled into carrying pails of soap-suds, with 1 which to drench the vines. " Bress yer heart, honey," she said, scornfully. " We never had nun ob dem bugs in old Varginny." ^( I AM TALKED ABOUT VI HAVE been hear- ing something aboutmyself ; some- thing far from agreeable. It happened in this way, — where the brook steals in at my garden, there is a little spring, a tiny natural basin as clear as a mirror. All around this little pool I have decided to plant daffodils, — shining, yellow daffodils, that the poet tells us : — "Come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty." 93 ^\ 94 JUDITH'S GARDEN I have often dreamed of their loveH- ness, walling in a colony of blue vio- lets ; for violets haunt these mossy banks. They come early in the spring and linger all summer. It must have been in just such a clear little pool that Narcissus bent to peep. I recalled a couplet : — " In the spring all violet-edged, In the spring by tall ferns hedged." Ah ! I lacked the ferns ; but this could be easily remedied. That very afternoon, I took a basket and trowel, and rowing across the lake, entered a wood where ferns grow in great luxu- riance. In a mossy hollow, behind a great boulder, I began to dig. I soon became aware that I was not alone. I heard voices, and look- ing up, beheld, just seating them- ""sa:: x'-- ^i ' r)ff, jy..\s-,' sAro o,vF.. ■/ knoii' j/.-ja' klliot, irs ii-];rr schoolmates:-' L '^xxrecj JUDITH'S GARDEN 95 selves upon the boulder, backs toward me, two females. (I call them females out of pure spite.) Their conversation attracted me. " Oh, yes," said one, " I know Max Elliot. We were schoolmates. He married a very singular woman — poor man ! " Now who likes being called, "a very singular woman," and your hus- band, " poor man " ? " So the marriage is unhappy ? " said the other. " Well, not exactly ; I hear he puts up with her. It must try him ; but he is a man that never acknowledges a mistake." " What sort of a woman is she } " " Oh, I can't describe her. She isn't homely ; but she hasn't a bit of style, J^J 96 JUDITH'S GARDEN and there is a far-away look in her eyes, as if she weren't all there. I call her one of those head-in-the-clouds women. You know what they are ? " " Yes, indeed ! " and the tone ex- pressed volumes. " She's not in the least domes- tic," continued the first woman. " Why, I have a cook that once worked for her. She says Mrs. Elliot wouldn't even take the trouble to think what they should have to eat. Poor Mary Ellen did it all." " Shall we call on her .? " asked the second woman. " I hardly know. The chances are we wouldn't find her at home. She is always gadding through the woods, or tending the garden. I hear she digs and plants just like a man." ^' /Vw JUDITH'S GARDEN 97 " Shocking ! " " You may well say it ; and she such a little thing — as slender as a child ! I may call on her about rose- time, for I hear she is very generous with her flowers." " Oh," I thought, ''you will find her particularly stingy." I picked up the empty basket, and stole back to the boat ; I had lost my zest for digging ferns. Somehow it always saddens me to think people dislike me. The tears were in my eyes; but once out on the wide, sunny lake, a gentle wind came and dried them. I forgot my sorrow; for suddenly a great sense of pro- tecting love seemed about me. I felt guarded, as it were, by angels. I knew that all the time I had ^\ ^\ 98 JUDITH'S GARDEN lived among my flowers, in the beau- tiful out-doors, I had remembered the proverb : — " He that keepeth his tongue from evil, keepeth his soul from trouble." I had no trouble ; it melted away from me as easily as the mist before the sun. Perhaps, for the first time in my life, I realised that I was wise ; wise to love God-made things before man-made things ; for, surely, it is man-made things that render us so wretched, and the God-made things that so uplift and exalt us. A little farther down the lake I moored my boat and stepped ashore. The maple grove seemed beckoning me. " Come," said the gentle benefi- cent trees, "and stroll in our quiet aisles — rest a little." If tired women JUDITH'S GARDEN 99 only knew how much the woods have to give them ! I found a mossy throne on the roots of an upturned tree, and there I sat, watching the declining sun send little rays among the lacy ferns, till they glowed like golden arrows. Oh, the tenderness of sun- beams in the wood ! The soft touch- ing of the giant boles of trees; the flickering on the moss, and the sud- den lighting of some wilding flower; the vague gyrating tracery on the fallen leaves in the runlet; and the gleaming golden vistas of distant aisles ! There was so much to see, so much to be happy over, that I was rather startled when I discovered another appreciative being near me. It was a brown thrush, with a soul \A ^1 100 JUDITH'S GARDEN full of joy. He had burst into song. I listened until he finished, then I searched for him among the tall trees; some green leaf hid him. He was an invisible soloist, but his melody had thrilled the sunlit aisles and made them holy. " Little brown thrush," I said, aloud; "you trust your Creator, while I only try to; I must do better." Then I turned my face to the west, and stand- ing, wrapped in the glory of the de- parting day, I thanked God that he had fashioned me — "a head-in-the- clouds woman." ir:l po ^ THE BITTERN'S NEST VII KNOW 3. bank where the wild thyme blows." Not exactly that, but a bank where violets grow. " Pat," I said, as my faithful henchman stood before me, awaiting the next day's orders, "could you rise very early to-morrow morn- ing and row me up the lake } " " I naden't go to bed a-tall, mum," said Pat. " Oh, I don't mean so early as that ! Say about five o'clock. A boy told ^1 102 JUDITH'S GARDEN me last night, that there is a least bittern's nest in the marsh over in the south cove, and I want to see it." "Shure, I know them burds," said Pat ; " they're accybats." " What do you mean ? " " Bedad, the cute divils whalk on stilts. Did ye niver see 'em wadin' thru' the rooshes? 'Tis a caution! I'll be on hand, mum," and Pat sloped away, whistling " Derry Down." That evening I told Max of my contemplated trip. " Count me out," he said lazily. " As if I ever counted you in ! " I protested. " Now tell me truly. Max, did you ever see the sun rise .? " " How does it look .? " he inquired evasively. m -y JUDITH'S GARDEN 103 " Oh," I said, " it is as if some one came out and said — hush ! " " That's proper," returned Max ; " I am always hushed." " And then," I continued — but Max looked quizzical. What use to waste rapture on him ? I slipped out of the room and down into the kitchen. " Rhoda," I said, " will you set out a cold bite for me .? I am going up the lake very early in the morning." " How early, honey.? " " Well, I intend to leave here by five o'clock." " I'll have you a warm breakfus, honey." " No, Rhoda ; you need not rise so C -v' early." " 'Deed I will, honey. You'se jes' like my chile to me. All my own ^\ 104 JUDITH'S GARDEN chillun — dead long ago; and Jim tuk, too. Dar ain't no one to love but you, honey. You'se jes' like my chile to me." " Oh, Rhoda," I said, and I put my arms around her faithful old form and pillowed my head on her ample breast. " You're just like a mammy to me." Before I slept that night, I thought of Mary Ellen and compared her with Rhoda. The difference was, Rhoda was my slave, while / was Mary Ellen's. How I enjoyed the change ! I waked next morning at four o'clock. The sun was already up and birds were carolling round my window. I dressed quickly — glancing once % JUDITH'S GARDEN 105 at Max's sleeping face. Poor Max ! I imagined he looked worn in that early morning light. My heart smote me. " How hard it must be," I thought, " this toiling always for others. Max has so much to do, and I so little. I only work at things that please me." Turning back, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him gently. " Dear heart," I murmured, " dear unselfish heart ! May God teach me to appreciate you." " Breakfus reddy, honey," called Rhoda, softly. Down I went, and there in the dining room, standing in a streak of sunlight, was the little round table spread with a white cloth. On it was the steaming silver coffee urn, a n COi .l::^ '>r m io6 JUDITH'S GARDEN plate piled with golden slabs of hot corn-pone, a dish of dewy straw- berries, and an exquisite la France rose — the first from the garden. " Set right down, honey, while I fetch yo' a bit o' briled steak an' a 'tato." I was not slow to obey. Such a cook is Rhoda ! I ate with a relish what she brought me and drank the fragrant coffee ; then I looked at the strawberries. " I jes' searched de patch for 'em, honey. Dey's mighty scurce yit." " Rhoda," I said gently, " would you mind if I saved them for Mr. Elliot ? He looks very tired this morn- ing. I know he would enjoy them." Rhoda's face fell. " Dey's for you, honey ; men folks ain't no 'count." fid w< y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 107 "Just to please me, Rhoda," I coaxed. " See, I will eat one. Now set them by his plate, and, Rhoda, put the rose in water to keep for him. Say I left it with my love." " Jes' you say, honey ; but I'se mighty dispinted." She looked so, as she stood in the doorway, her red turbaned head bob- bing me a good-by. I found Pat waiting in the boat. " The top o' the mornin' to ye, missus," he cried. " 'Tis a purty day I'm expectin'." He made me very comfortable, then rowed vigorously toward the lake. I believe it pays to rise early, not only to catch the rare beauty of the morning, but for the sense of exhila- % ¥\ ^\ io8 JUDITH'S GARDEN ration which permeates one's whole body. I could scarcely believe that three short months ago I had been but a weak, despondent mortal — courting death rather than life. Now I felt like a modern Amazon. What couldn't I do ? Suddenly our boat shot past the clump of overhanging birches out into the lake. It seemed to me that I had never beheld anything so beautiful as this wide expanse of water, rippling in the freshness of morn. A sort of roseate haze hung round its banks, like dim curtains, shutting out the forest; yet ever now and then shifting, in vague uncertainty. As the sun rose higher, dainty little wavelets leaped to catch his rays, and the whole lake flashed like a jewel. Over our heads flew a JUDITH'S GARDEN 109 flock of crows, cawing lustily; and presently we heard the loud mocking laugh of a loon. It was too hazy, near the edge of the lake, to catch sight of the loon, but again and again his laugh broke the stillness. Pat rowed vigorously in that direction. " If we could only see him ! " I cried. "He's a shly burd," said Pat. " Shure 'tis mony the toime I've struve to fotch on him ; but, bedad, he's that cute, he'll shwim under wather to fool ye." So it was. When we drew near the spot where we had heard him, the laugh sounded far in the distance — like some luring ignis fatuus ; and we were fain to desist following it. ^\ no JUDITH'S GARDEN At last we came to the south marsh, and rowed through a httle channel, forested on each side by tall, waving cat-tails. In. these green aisles we heard a swift rush of wings, and the merry whistle of the red- winged blackbird ; the pipe of the marsh wren ; but the haunt of the bittern eluded us. We rowed and rowed, peeping eagerly among the rushes, but always in vain. When we had grown quite discour- aged, Pat suddenly shipped his oars and said in a loud whisper : — " Whist ! " then he pointed with a knotty forefinger straight before him : there — striding through the cat- tails in his own peculiar fashion — was a least bittern. I had never seen one before ; and % . ifk-A JUDITH'S GARDEN III Vit^ it took me several moments to compre- hend that this queer bird was not wading through the water, but only stepping, agilely, from one rush to another. " Shure, we'll find the nesht now," whispered Pat. He was right. In a few moments we spied it. On it, like a sphinx carved in stone, sat the mother bird, her head drawn back in an unnatural attitude, seeking, in a bittern's queer way, to become invisible to her foe. " If we could only see the eggs ! " I whispered. " Shoo thar ! " cried Pat, striking the water violently with an oar. This unhallowed racket was too much for my lady; with a startled flutter she slipped from the nest and ^' 112 JUDITH'S GARDEN waded quickly through the rushes toward her mate. After we had examined carefully the nest with its four white eggs, touching not, Pat backed the boat away, and we left the frightened mother to peace and solitude. Instead of going directly home, we rowed to a mossy bank, where, Pat said, violets grew. And indeed they did. From the moist soil rose hundreds of blue- capped heads. With a little cry of delight, I fell to picking them; and down on his knees went Pat at the same task. When I considered I had gathered quite a bunch, I turned and saw that my companion had a still larger one. I expected he would bestow them ^' JUDITH'S GJRDEN 113 upon me, but he did not ; instead, he took a bit of twine from his pocket and gravely tied their stems. " Thim's moine," he said. " Shall I tie yer's, missus ? " I consented. As we rowed home- ward I said, "Your wife will be pleased with the violets, Pat." " Hoo ! " he exclaimed, " did yese think I was pickin' 'em fur Bridget.? 'Tis vigitables I'd tak' her." He must have interpreted my curi- osity. " Thim vilets," he said, looking a little foolish, "air fur Hitty Allen, phwat resides in the poor-house." " She who loved orchids .? " " Yes, mum ; the orchards thot pined on their shticks an' died ! That's tin years back ; but, begorra, I've car- y\ 114 JUDITH'S GARDEN ried Hitty flowers ever since. Coom the winter, I puts a few pots in me windy, an' when they blossoms I carries 'em up to the poor-house. Me ould woman is grate fur havin' her way ; she's set against pots in the windy ; but, be jabers, whin I tells her thim's fur Hitty Allen, she knows phwat thot manes. There's sum things I will have me say about ; " and Pat's slender, wrinkled face looked very determined. "It seems strange that you take such pains for an old woman, Pat." He looked at me searchingly, and then he spoke.' " God made a passel of folks, mum, and they're mostly common sort, — fashioned out o' any dust handy ; but 'tis from the special pile he fixed up Hitty Allen; an' it y^i JUDITH'S GARDEN "5 makes no difference where she shtops, in a phallis or in a poor-house, she's coom from that special pile, an' God's set His seal upon her. He'll know her." " I think, Pat," I said, looking at the old man, "you, too, were made out of that special pile." "Hoo!" cried Pat, "an' 'tis me ye mane ? Shure, God took any ould scrapin's to make an Irishman ; an' He picked out a face fur him as homely as a goat's." " No," I said softly, " He didn't. Some have souls that shine right through their faces." When we arrived home. Max was sitting upon the piazza. " Good-morning, Aurora," he said. " Why Aurora ? " I asked. " Was she not all pink and white ? " ^' ii6 JUDITH'S GARDEN Now who can resist a compliment — even if paid by one's own husband? I slyly peeped into the mirror in the hall and saw that the face which a short time ago had looked so thin and haggard, now glowed with ruddy tints of health. " Max," I said gaily, " the doctors would go out of business if all women would take my tonic. It isn't a bitter dose out of a black bottle, but a search through the rosy curtains of dawn for a bittern's nest." Soon it was time for him to leave for town. " Come here, little one," he said; "why did you save the straw- berries and the rose for me } " " Because," I said softly, " I love you! But Rhoda doesn't love me." / CLMM A FEW THINGS VIII HE roses are all in blossom, and I am secretly glad that Mr. Tom Norton is safe in Europe, lest he should behold the success of my efforts and want his garden back again. Back again ! somehow in these few short months it has grown to be my garden — my paradise. The brook is mine and the grove is mine. Already I have built airy castles as ii8 i2C JUDITH'S GARDEN 119 to how everything will look next year. I see in fancy the daffodils crowding round the spring, and the pale fronds of ferns uncurling in the pleasant air. Blooming along the brookside, later on, the iris will reflect in wavering hues its blue and lavender, its yellow and pink, in the clear water. How very gay that little stream will look ! All the birds in the grove are mine. The thrushes that sing so sweetly at eventide, and the meadow lark that whirs up from the clover field ; the " Bob White " that perches on the fence to call, " More wet ! " the robin and the yellow warbler swinging on the thistle tops, — all are mine ! The fireplace in the house is mine ; for on chilly evenings Max 120 JUDITH'S GARDEN and I build a great fire in it and sit down before it. The squirrels in the attic, close under the roof, are mine — I shall leave nuts for them. There are, however, a few things that still belong to Tom Norton. For instance, the yellow and green Japanese vase on the mantel; I don't fancy it. It is Mr. Norton's vase. And there is a certain room, called the " reception room," that I just hate to sit in. That is " Mr. Norton's room." The yellow cat that crawled up the back steps to meet me, after wintering I know not where, was raised from a kitten by Mr. Norton ; but now that she has reached the dignity of a grown-up cat, I claim her. However, there is a stray ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 121 rooster around here (he looks Hke the last scion of some game fowls) that I lay no claim to. He is a hardy, pestiferous creature ; and the way he scratches through my flower- beds is discouraging. I call him, "Mr. Norton's rooster." Somebody told me that Mr. Nor- ton went abroad for his health. Now I don't wish anything wicked, but wouldn't it be nice if Mr. Norton didn't improve quite as fast as he expected to ? — not to grow much worse, but just a little worse ; so that he would not return to this country for a long time, to claim his own. Of course, had he guessed that his garden, when properly cultivated, would fall but a trifle short of the Garden of Eden, he would not have ^' 122 JUDITH'S GARDEN gone away; he would have stayed right here and hved in his own para- dise. How could he know that the ugly ice-house would become a thing of beauty ? — as it surely is (every smiling dawn), covered over with morning-glories. " Glories of the morn," I call them. Oh, it makes me glad to be alive, just to go out and look at it. When I hear the brook laughing at the foot of the garden I am sometimes afraid a neighbour, straying near, will cable Mr. Norton how things are looking, and he will hasten home. Yesterday Max received a letter from him. It ran : — J^ '■^\ " My dear Elliot : I am think- ing seriously of your proposition to y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 123 buy the place, but as yet, have not decided to sell. I used to think I should like to spend my days there, and have a garden — such as we read about ; but alas ! I soon discovered that that particular spot of earth had too many other tenants to make it comfortable for the growth of flowers; " I think the first year I moved there I planted a hundred rose- bushes, and the next year fifty; but I never had any roses. " An insect, dressed in green, made it too lively for those poor bushes. In a short time they were stripped of their leaves, and being naked, refused to bloom. " I often think of your wife potter- ing among the flowers (I know how she loves them); and I picture her ^' 124 JUDITH'S GARDEN dismay whenever she makes a new ac- quaintance from the land of bugdom. " On this side of the globe flowers do grow. I wish I could show Mrs. Elliot a certain hedge of roses in bloom just across the road from our hotel. It is one perfect mass of glorious flowers. " My health is somewhat improved, but I do not feel my old self yet. I shall not return home until I am quite recovered. I will let you know later about the place. "With kindest regard to Mrs. Elliot and yourself, I am, " Yours sincerely, " T. B. Norton." So we could not tell the outcome ; but I kept right on claiming things. ^' Mr FIRST GLIMPSE OF PRISCILLJ IX HAVE been with Pat to the poor- house to pay a visit to Hetty Allen. Taking life as serenely as I do, and developing such a passion for getting rid of my money, I have felt (as you know) some curiosity concerning a poor-house. I determined to find out if it were really a place so greatly to be avoided. We rowed to the north end of 125 ^\ 126 JUDITH'S GARDEN \C the lake, then walked across the fields. Our way led us through the do- main of Mr. Electrical Brown. He is called " Electrical," I hear, out of compliment to his inventions. We saw the gardens that had once been Hetty Allen's, and the low white farmhouse in the distance. Almost as eccentric a character owned them now ; in truth, it seemed the home of eccentricity. The whole neighbourhood was rife with stories concerning the odd things invented by Mr. Electrical Brown. His beau- tiful daughter, Priscilla, was an object of the greatest curiosity. Her dead mother had been an actress, and Miss Priscilla Brown, it was said, was wearing out a wardrobe left to her y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 127 7V by that talented parent. The quaint old silks and grotesque jewelry be- longed to costumes of the middle centuries. Then the queer old servant that lived with them, Belinda, was given to fits and the most violent exhibi- tions of wrath ; but she guarded her master and mistress with a faithful- ness worthy of an angel. " 'Twor yender," said Pat, pointing with his knotty forefinger, "that the limb o' Satan fell into a fit ; an' roond that medder I chased the hin. A tuff old spalpeen she was ! Must 'a' tuk a power o' bilin' to tender her. Whist! there she is — " " The hen .? " " No — beggin' yer pardon — 'tis Miss Priscilly." ^' 128 JUDITH'S GARDEN I turned quickly, and beheld, com- ing through the fields, a tall young woman who looked a very Juno, with shining golden hair and proudly poised head. She was dressed in white, with a silken scarf, of a pale rose tint, thrown round her shoul- ders, and in one hand she carried two great stalks of meadow-sweet. I stood spellbound, staring at this beautiful apparition, until suddenly I realised that I was an interloper. I hurried down the path tox^ard the bars. " Oh, Pat," I exclaimed, as soon as ithe brow of the hill hid us, "she is so beautiful ! " " I often thinks," he returned, " 'tis the way I'd loiked Furgit-me-not to look, had she lived." ~v ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 129 We walked in silence through a long lane bordered on each side by tall elderberry bushes just whitening into bloom. Where the bars opened beyond, a wild rose thrust its spicy face into notice, and its faint pink petals reminded me of Priscilla's scarf. We found Hetty Allen in the meadow back of the poor-house. (I was glad to note there was a meadow.) A bent, white-faced, dreamy old woman, sitting amid the clover, her hands full of blooms. Her mind seemed quite gone. "God bless ye. Miss Allen!" said Pat. " The same to you, kindly sir," she returned. She took the roses he offered her and kissed them ; then y^x ~i '^/% 130 JUDITH'S GARDEN her eyes wandered to me. " What have we here," she asked, " an or- chid ? " "'Tis me missus, as has coom to see ye," explained Pat. " No," she said dreamily, " 'tis an orchid; frail but splendid, and very expensive. I must have it, if it costs me the south pasture." " No, no," cried Pat, a Httle impa- tiently, fearing, perhaps, that I might be offended, " 'tis no orchard a-tall a- tall ! 'Tis me missus." " I see," she said sweetly, " and I recognise the species ; very rare, very rare ! " Poor Pat looked crestfallen. " She's daft," he whispered. " I hope ye '11 not moind being tuk fur one o' thim or- chards what pined on their shticks." JUDITH'S GARDEN 131 " I'm not offended," I replied gen- tly ; " and since she takes me for a flower, I'd as soon be an orchid as anything else." We left her, after a while, and I peeped in at the poor-house door. It looked quite clean and neat. Just inside sat an old woman peel- ing potatoes. " My God," she screamed, " here's my Mary Ann!" In an instant the potatoes were rolling about the floor, and I was being embraced in the most effusive manner. She smelled strongly of tobacco, and I struggled to free myself. Pat laid hold of her shoulder and jerked her about. She looked aggrieved. Just then the matron arrived. 132 JUDITH'S GARDEN Wi " The tiresome old creature," she said, boxing her soundly on the ear, " always seeing her Mary Ann ! " "Don't," I said, "don't!" then I bent to help the poor old thing pick up the potatoes, as she searched for them with vague, trembling fingers. Somehow this scene tore down "my air-castle of a poor-house. Ear- boxing, I feared, was the fashion at this abode. Oh, how cold is charity ! The matron politely showed me over the house; but my ardour had cooled. I glanced into the bare little rooms and shuddered. Every one of them seemed to hold skeletons of lost joys and present sorrows. The matron kept up a constant grumbling over her arduous duties y^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 133 and the inconveniences she was sub- jected to. " How many inmates have you ? " I inquired. " Thirty," she replied crossly ; " and I wish they were all in heaven ! tire- some, tormenting old creatures, stub- born girls, and sottish men." " No doubt they echo that wish," I said severely ; " I should, if I lived here." I have made up my mind to try to save my money, and to keep clear of the poor-house. I only fear the florists, and the agents who peddle shrubs. They are so polite to me, so anxious to sell me things, that — well, how can I help but buy.? s^i «y/ GOOD GARDEN IS A CONTINUED DELIGHT, A PARADISE." X WISH every one could have a gar- den; and I often think of those gar- dens in paradise where flowers never fade. It strikes me it would grow monot- onous to see the same rose hanging forever on its stalk, and the same lily lifting its white cup. What would a garden be that never changed .^ One would only need to plant it once, and there it would remain forever. No 134 1^ M^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 135 little flutters of anxiety as to seeds coming up ; for, of course, in para- dise, every seed would come up. No danger of buds blasting, for every bud would fulfil its mission and burst into full flower. For a month or two I think I might enjoy paradise ; and then — well, I do not wish to shock people, but I believe that I should fly into ten thousand pieces if something didn't happen. No; give me this dear old earth, full of cares and anxieties and bugs. It is hard to make a garden grow here ; but when it does grow, you know it is the result of honest toil and careful watching. It spices one's days to overcome difficulties. Here, when a flower fades, another springs up to take its place and, like a new thought, crowds 33. (T \ 136 JUDITH'S GARDEN on the old. Continual growth is the password, and so it seems to me it should be in paradise, — a continual throwing off of the old and a putting on of the new. I don't suppose I should have preached this sermon, only Mrs. Stew- art has been to call. Mrs. Stewart is a person who takes religion sadly. She is surrounded by a mental atmosphere that touches you like a cold fog. This good wo- man feels that a great many of her neighbours are going to be lost — my- self, among them; so yesterday she came over to labour with me. Just as I was running round the house to hide from her, she caught sight of me and told Rhoda where to look for me. JUDITH'S GARDEN 137 " I don' think she's home, missus," said Rhoda. " Yes, she is," returned Mrs. Stew- art ; " you will find her behind the house." I came in, very reluctantly. It was a charming afternoon and I invited Mrs. Stewart into the gar- den ; but she said the sun always hurt her eyes. I told her she ought to see my roses; she replied that the salvation of souls was more to her than all the flowers that grow. If you have ever been caught in such a trap, you will know how I felt. I took out my handkerchief and began , to pleat and unpleat it ; then I meas- ured round it several times with ner- vous, hasty fingers. I rolled it into a tight little ball, unrolled it, then tried y^ 138 JUDITH'S GARDEN to sit still, but Mrs. Stewart's mental atmosphere began to envelop me. All the brightness gradually faded out of the day, and I seemed hung round with shrouds of unbelief. She began to exhort me, to tell me how uncertain life is. She related acci- dent after accident, of people who were taken off in an instant's time, until I wondered that any one dared to be alive. " Now," said she, in a tone of deep conviction, " is your time for repentance. Think of your idle days, dawdling among your flowers, when you should be labouring in the vineyard of the Lord ! " I was just framing a meek and suit- able answer, when Rhoda appeared. " Missus," she said, bobbing her red turbaned head, " dars a man at JUDITH'S GARDEN 139 dey back door as says he mus' see yo'." Now I have always believed in good angels. Here was one at the back door. " Please to excuse me, Mrs. Stew- art," I said. I found — not exactly an angel, but a tree agent. He was a tall, power- ful man, and reminded me strongly of Captain Cuttle, one of Dickens's characters ; for he had lost a hand and wore in the place of it an iron hook. " Is this Mrs. Elliot .? " he inquired. I told him it was ; and he informed I me that my husband had purchased some crimson ramblers of him and that he had come to set them out. " It is rather late," he remarked, " but , I guess they'll grow." l>r 140 JUDITH'S GARDEN How thoughtful of dear Max ! He knew how badly I wanted those roses. " I should like to have them planted round those two tall elms," I said, pointing to the lawn. " I'll be out in just one moment." I returned to my guest. "Mrs. Stewart," I said with mock regret, " I fear you will have to excuse me ; a man has come on very im- portant business. I find I must attend to it." "Very well," she said reluctantly, "though it is a pity our interesting conversation must be broken off; how- ■ ever, I hope my warnings will sink into your heart. I shall call again — very soon." " I shall be so pleased ! " murmured my mock self. l/M'Jt y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 141 When she was gone, my real self went into the kitchen to Rhoda. " Rhoda," I said, " when that woman calls again, and you come out to look for me, you must never, never find me." " Deed I won't, honey," she laughed. " Youse'U be clean lost ! " Pat had gone to the woods for muck, so I helped " Captain Cuttle " set out the roses ; that is, I held them while he packed the earth about their roots. " Bin seUin' trees and shrubs for forty years," said he. " Hev you got any rose pinies ? " " No," I returned, " I haven't." " What's a garden without rose pi- nies ! Jest wait an' I'll git my book." A few minutes later " Captain Cut- tle" and I were seated on a bench, ^' 142 JUDITH'S GJRDEN 7V our heads bent over the same cata- logue, eagerly discussing the merits of rose peonies. When we arose, an half hour later, he was richer, but I was poorer. Nearly all my month's allowance had gone to beautify Tom Norton's gar- den. As I watched him drive away, an un- easy feeling possessed me; I had parted with my money like a millionaire, but now like a miser I wished it back again. Still I consoled myself by thinking how silky and blowzy the peonies would look. Such healthy I hearty flowers ought to be growing in every garden ; it did one good just to look at them. I would not regret the money ; but the first rainy day I must vlook over my wardrobe, take a stitch /r. r(f y 144 JUDITH'S GARDEN for me on the seat beside him, and gave me an oar. I knew he was going to comfort me. " Little wife," he said, " what's Hecuba to you, or you to Hecuba ? Let Mrs. Stewart alone. If she wishes to see all the sins and evils of this world, that is her misfortune ; but you just keep on living your simple, merry life and leave the rest to God!" Oh, how much we should escape, if we could leave the rest to God ! Max's presence always rests me. Every day the hard problems of a busy life confront him, and he has little time for sentiment or enthusiasm ; but he possesses the tact, combined with rare sympathy, which knows when to speak and when to keep silent. w y I LET Mr SOUL GROW XI HE rainy day came sooner than I ex- pected it — too soon, in fact. However, as my good intentions had not had time to cool, I repaired to my room right after breakfast and, while the noisy rain dashed against the windows, laid out my wardrobe upon the bed. I found much to do; for I am the sort of a person a thorn delights to catch hold of, and I never pass a convenient nail untorn. 145 ^' 146 JUDITH'S GARDEN I did not feel in the least like mending; but then, I argued, when had I ever felt like it ? My thread would knot, and once I jabbed the needle into my finger and brought blood. Now I began to realise how fool- ish it was to spend all my allowance for flowers and shrubs. Was I not, in one sense, myself a human flower? Ought I not to be suitably garbed ? I thought, regretfully, how I had sowed my spring bonnet and nothing came up. That was a dead loss. I almost hated " Captain Cuttle " when I reflected that, through his persua- sions, I had changed my long-desired mull gown into "rose pinies," as he called them. Those rose peonies would not blossom until another year ; and by that time Mr. Norton might JUDITH'S GARDEN 147 be home to claim his own. Another dead loss. As I sewed up a long rent in a white gown, I decided in my own mind that I ought to have a guar- dian. Really, I was not a responsible person, with my passion for gardens. It was a sort of mild insanity with me, that in the end might make me as poor as Hetty Align. If Max should be taken from me, I feared I would not long be left at large. It so vexed me to think of my mental incapacity that I jerked the thread out of the rent and had it all to sew over again. Presently I looked out and saw Pat working in the rain, rigged out like a sea captain, in a rubber coat and a tarpaulin. ^' 148 JUDITH'S GARDEN Little streams of water ran off him when he bent over the wheelbarrow, and I heard him whistling " Bonny Doon " as he disappeared down the path. Pat has a strain of Scotch blood in him, I know, by his con- versation. Still I sewed on, and a feeling of real melancholy began to steal over me. Come to think of it, I am al- ways melancholy when I sew. There is something about the task that grinds me; and I wonder at it, for it is such a womanly occupation. When I go forth and hear other women talk about their " winter, spring, summer, and fall sewing," I feel very small indeed. I never have any four seasons of sewing. The spring, for me, is not the time for s^i <^ ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 149 " spring sewing " ; instead, I am all a-tiptoe to watch the coming of the birds. My head seems running over with the season's ditties ; and I am just as careless as the daffodil, who buys her yellow gown ready made. The most of my things are bought ready made. I blush to confess it ; yet how else could I be clothed ? If I sewed, I should miss the carnival I so long to attend — the Mardi gras of nature. No, I have but one season of sewing, and that is winter, — dull, dreary winter ! when old mother Na- ture's babies are all hushed to sleep in the ground ; when the birds are gone away, and the trees show only naked shivering branches. Then I had just as lief sew as not ; for, as the ISJ ^\ 150 JUDITH'S GARDEN sparrow says, " There is no good time anywhere." I tried to think, as I sat in my room, how much good the rain would do the flowers, and how it would swell the brook. What a little river I should have in my garden, rushing under the foot-bridge with a roar quite startling ! I tried to picture the yellow warbler (whose home I had spied in an elderberry bush) sit- ting on her nest, her wings tight- ened down over the precious eggs, and the rain pelting through the leaves on her yellow back. I seemed to see the discomfort of her mate, standing upon one leg, with hang- ing head and woe-begone air. Some birds sing in the rain, but not in such a rain as this. Even Pat had PO ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 151 sought shelter, for I no longer saw him in the garden paths. After lunch I tried on all my hats, and decided that each one was a little more unbecoming than the other. I pulled off the flowers to one and made a bow for another ; and at last, in a very frenzy of nervousness, I scuttled them all back into a big box and rushed for my waterproof and cap. Donning these, I stole down the stairs, very quietly, lest Rhoda might hear me, and made a dash for the river. I found that Pat had covered the boat, so it was quite dry. Pulling off the canvas I got into it and rowed hastily away. The rain was now falling straight down, for the temper of the storm was subsiding. y\ 152 JUDITH'S GARDEN My one thought was to get out into the great wide lake. What an unknown world it would be, hung round with curtains of mist ! How alone I should seem in that vast wil- derness of solitude ! Dimly I could see the trees on each side of me, as I glided down the river; then all faded, and I knew that I was on the lake. My very oars seemed muffled as they dipped in the water. Never in my whole life had I so felt the majesty of nature's solitude. Christ went into the wilderness to pray, to be alone with the Father. The wilderness could not have been more solitary than this wide expanse of water, its shores hidden by the thickly gathering mists. I shipped my oars, and sat in the silence, my y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 153 face upturned to feel the swiftly fall- ing baptism of rain. Somehow my soul grew very near to God; and presently my spirit began the com- plaint of prayer. I felt like a child telling its father of the little tangled threads of life, and begging him to pull them straight again. I asked Him why He had made me to so love everything outdoors and nothing indoors .i* I fully realised that I was not as a woman should be. I did not love housework or sew- ing, and I wanted nothing to vex me. I realised I was happier out here in the solitude than I should ever be in a drawing-room. How happy I was! A mighty love for the whole universe welled up in me; I felt that I was among the X' 154 JUDITH'S GARDEN few chosen to be lovers of nature; and since I was such an ardent lover, why be troubled about lesser things ? There was Rhoda to cook for me, to provide my material self with good food. I prayed that Rhoda's life and usefulness might be prolonged indefinitely ; and I prayed (was it more foolish than the things others ask for ? ) that a good dressmaker might arise who would clothe my material body as satisfactorily as Rhoda served it; and a milliner, who would trim hats at a low cost. With these bless- ings granted me, I should be free to spend my days worshipping at the shrine of nature, making a garden, and living to please myself. Perhaps this will seem an irrever- ent prayer ; but they were the things y^ '^\ ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 155 I most wanted, and I have found out that little everyday things asked for in trust are granted as quickly as great blessings. I stayed out on that lake to let my soul grow, just as long as I dared. Never in my life have I so enjoyed myself. I should be the envied of ENVIED if people understood what a good time I had. At last I rowed back to the dock, and there stood Max, looking angry and anx- ious. Poor old Max! He sometimes reminds me of a hen with a duckling. " Thank Heaven ! " he cried, " you are safe. What a turn you have given me ! You must be crazy." " Only a little luny, dear," I laughed. "You silly old Max! ^1 156 JUDITH'S GARDEN Why worry so about one woman ? There are thousands in the universe." " Yes," he said crossly, stooping to fasten the boat ; " and I am glad there is only one like j/ou." " I didn't dream you would be home, dear." " I dare say not. I drove out early, it was so stormy, thinking how pleased you would be to see me. This is all the thanks I got ; you were gone." " But I have returned," I said sweetly. "Yes, after I have suffered a thousand torments, thinking you might be drowned. How can you be so venturesome ? " " Max," I said, " I have a presenti- ment that I shall never be drowned. JUDITH'S GARDEN 157 Nature has so few real lovers, that she isn't going to kill off one to please anybody; I feel that I shall live to be an old, old lady. I have had a glorious time." " What's for dinner } " growled Max. " Dear Rhoda knows," I replied. When I was dressed for dinner, Max relented. He is never cross for long. At dessert he looked across the table and smiled indul- gently at me. " I said," he remarked, " I was glad there was only one woman in the universe like you. It was because you are unique, and I like unique things." yz %^ ti^jk ^' ENTERTAIN XII CALLERS Y flowers are all beginning to bloom. It is as if some fairy had wandered through the garden and waved her magic wand ; suddenly we have a carnival of flowers. Every afternoon the four o'clocks open their crimson petals and flash in the sun. They are homely flowers, but I love to see them. They make a splash of colour all down the kitchen walk. My larkspurs bloom tall and slender be- is8 y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN IS9 hind the bed of yellow stock;. and yonder on the grass is a group of lilies — " white sentinels strayed through the gates of paradise." The hollyhocks have unfolded the silken buds that climb their long stalks, and the first sweet peas are nodding like little ships rocking in a harbour. It is not such a wonderful garden, nor is the bloom so abundant, that the rich need envy me ; but it suf- fices to fill my heart with joy — and is not that enough .i* I feel so merry and strong, as I walk through its paths, so at peace with all the world, that I even glance indulgently at Tom Norton's rooster when he digs slyly in my choicest beds. How can that rooster know where I last sowed seeds ? But he does ; he knows every- ^1 i6o JUDITH'S GARDEN thing about the garden ; and the mischief he has wrought almost forces me to believe in reincarna- tion. Perhaps in some other life this fowl was an evil person, and is now forced to continue existence in the kingdom of lower animals. I often think so, when he looks at me so curiously wise and sly out of the extreme corner of one eye; then, toppling from side to side like an uneasy ship, scuttles down the gar- den walk. You wonder that I do not kill him? I often threaten to; but then, he looks so strong and healthy, so eager to live; his feathers are so slick and mottled that, after all, I haven't the heart to commit the deed. That he would make good ^' ^ai^ JUDITH'S GARDEN i6i eating I have no doubt, — done into a chicken salad or a pate; but then — well, I imagine he looks upon me somewhat as a missionary looks upon a cannibal : he often shudders at my approach. Such are the different standpoints of life. To-day I have been thinking how I wish my congenial friend would come and visit my garden. What real pleasure it would give me to see her golden head bending over the blossoms and to hear her talk about the things we both love. How I should enjoy posing before her as the monarch of this flowery king- dom, and telling her in pathetic tones of my struggles with bugs. She would certainly make a sketch of Pat in his droopy old felt hat STI ^' 162 JUDITH'S GARDEN and blue overalls, — one of those clever little sketches she does so well; but here comes some one. The some one was not my friend, but a little lady I am sorry for. She told me a few of her troubles, as we walked among the flowers. I felt more like weeping than smiling when she knelt beside my white lilies, a look of mute sorrow in her face. " I feel like praying to them," she said; "the sweet, silent things! There is nothing I love so well on earth as flowers ; yet I cannot have them, for there are so many duties to attend to I have no time to cul- tivate them. I am a cook, a house- maid, a seamstress, and a laundress, — all in one. I would not mind so ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 163 much if I could please anybody ; but my husband and children grum- ble over their food, — they do not understand how it hurts me. There is always discord in our house. The children quarrel among themselves, and as they grow older they seem not to love me as they ought. I suppose it is my fault, — I have left something undone that I ought to have done ; but oh, how I wish God had made things a little clearer to us — a little easier ; or else, given us the trust of this one white lily." She looked at me with such a sad smile that I knew hers was a soul misunderstood. She was too good for her earthly mate, but he had clipped her wings and tied her down. Perhaps some day, when it .X:\ ^^ 164 JUDITH'S GARDEN was too late, her children might know her and appreciate her, — after they had nearly killed her with gross neglect. What should I say to her? I tapped my foot upon the garden walk and meditated, — I so care free, and she so weighted down. Should I tell her she had erred some- where; and as we sow, so shall we reap ? I might preach her a fine little sermon about positive and negative minds, and the power of self-control. I did neither. I said : " You poor meek thing! why don't you kick over the traces.? No time to culti- vate flowers ! Indeed, I would find time ! Take the weekly darning, for instance. As long as the legs of the ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 165 stockings are good, can't the chil- dren wear shoes to cover up the holes in the feet? Then that ever- lasting cooking! I presume your whole family have dyspepsia. When you have got them a good plain meal, set it on the table; and if they grumble, snatch up your plate and go out into the garden and eat by yourself. You will have a much bet- ter time ; the flowers will all be glad of your company, and a bird will come and sing to you. Nature loves you and wants you." I broke off some of my lilies and handed them to her. She accepted them and gave me a swift impulsive kiss. " I like you," she said ; " I believe you have opened a new door for me. Maybe it isn't a m. ^' i66 JUDITH'S GARDEN i4m right own soul just to :o starve others. I'm going to try to have some flowers." " That's right," I said heartily. " Pat shall dig up a basket of roots to take to you. Don't neglect your gar- den a single day, whatever else you neglect. Of course you'll have to wash the dishes; but write out this quotation, and pin it over the sink : — " ' A good garden is a continual delight, a para- dise.' " " I have always thought," she said, " a paradise would be a place where one did not have to worry." " It will surprise you," I replied, "to find how little one can worry in a garden. No matter how many troubles you take out into it, before you know it, they are gone. I tried br^ -vi w /\\i(W JUDITH'S GARDEN 167 ^p_^ to worry some the other day, — just out of a sense of duty ; but a big sun- flower laughed in my face, and every bloom I looked at seemed making fun of me." By this time we were at the gate. Her hands and arms were full of flowers, and she looked really cheer- ful. I told her Pat would be over later with the roots, and whenever she needed some one to help her in the garden, why just send for me. Isn't it a shame that men are often selfish enough to deprive women of flowers } They don't realise that to starve a woman's soul is to dwarf her very existence. I never felt so glad in my life over the money I had spent in my garden. I knew a Methodist minister once 7V % ^' i68 JUDITH'S GARDEN who had a pinched up Httle wife that he was always dragging from pillar to post, and lecturing about her duty. In her last sickness some one took her a pot of mignonette. She told that some one she was quite willing to die, but she did hope that her husband had made a mistake about heaven, for what need had she of a harp and robe, when all she really cared for was to see green things a-growing.? I was feeling quite put out at man in general, when Pat appeared. Now who could be angry with Pat, this delightful old Irishman, who rev- els in flowers 1 Soon we were deep in conversation regarding different shrubs and a certain hedge that I proposed setting out to hide our little kitchen garden. JUDITH'S GARDEN 169 " An arbby vital is a good hedge," said Pat. " Bedad, I remimbers the hedges in the juke's garden, whin me uncle had the place. They grew so hoigh ye cud na see over thim ; but thin there were little doors and windys cut in 'em, to look through at the stattys behint. What this garden nades, mum, is a few foine stattys. " There used to be in the juke's garden," he continued, "a certain statty called Habby; 'twas a foine young woman wid an urn in her hand. She wa'n't dressed much, but me uncle hed a few modest vines trained over her. You cud look right through a hedge windy an' see her standing on her pedisell wid a shcarlet runner in bloom behint her. y\ 170 JUDITH'S GARDEN Be jabers, there's that dommed rooster ! " and Pat made off. He came back soon and resumed his story. " All round this statty was a bed of swate vilets, and here the juke's little darter used to coom to pick flowers. " I remimbers jest as well the little jukess. She wor a purty child; her hair hung in curls, and her eyes were as blue as furgit-me-nots. " I wor a little freckle-faced divil, an' I used to stale up to watch her. Begorra ! I thought her an angel ; an' one day ses I to her, ' Whar's yer wings .'' ' " She turned quick, for I'd staled on her unawares. Ses she, ' I hev none, hev ye ? ' " I was grate at story-tellin' thim JUDITH'S GARDEN 171 days ! I answered her, ' Shure I hev, but they're shut up tight on me back under me jacket' " ' Can ye fly ? ' axed she, her eyes < gittin' big. " ' Fly is it ? ' ses I ; ' that's aisy enuf.' " Thin ses she, ' Cloimb up to the top o' the statty and fly off, that I may see ye.' " Shure I was quick witted. Ses I to myself, ' I'll fool her. I'll cloimb up the statty, and when I'm on the head o' it, arrah, but I'll slip doun on the other side, and the little missus — she'll think I've flew off.' " I cud cloimb like a cat in thim days ; up I wint before ye cud say ' shpat ! an' whin I reached the head 0' Habby, I stood on one leg an' bal- anced mesilf loike an accybat. y\ 172 JUDITH'S GARDEN " The little jukess danced round the base. ' Fly, fly ! ' called she. " ' That I will,' ses I, ' as soon as I gits me wings loose,' an' I tuk off me jacket an' threw it doun. " ' Now,' ses I, in a grate voice, ' I'm goin' ! ' Jest then I looked doun, an' there stood the old jukess a-peek- ing at me thru' a windy in the hedge. " Begorra, but I was scairt ! I jist lost me balance and doun I fell into that vilet bed an' broke me leg. " Wall, I lay three weeks in me uncle's house a-mendin'; thin he sint me home; but before I wint the little jukess came to see me. " She stood, holdin' the hand o' the nurse and lookin' at me out o' her blue eyes. ' Boy,' ses she, ' I know why ye did-na' fly.' JUDITH'S GARDEN 173 >r-r "'Why?' axed I. " ' Me mither scairt ye ; but,' ses she, comin' closer, 'ye '11 fly some day, and so will I.' " I'd not been home long whin I {Y^ heerd that the little jukess wor dead. She tuk the shcarlet faver. Shure, she got her wings sooner than I thought fur." "Pat," I asked, "do you believe that the angels have wings .'' " " Begorra, I do." " Do you expect to fly } " " Thot I do, agin I escapes purga- tory. 'Twill be foine." He looked so gentle and honest, 1 so utterly truthful, that somehow I( envied him his faith. I have had more calls to-day — the ladies whom I overheard discussing ^1 '74 JUDITH'S GARDEN me in the woods. While my rose bed is not at its best, there is still a great deal of bloom left. They have kept their word. My mock self was ready to greet them. " So happy to make your acquaint- ance, dear Mrs. Elliot," said one. I murmured a polite nothing. " We have heard such sweet things about you," continued the other, effu- sively, " that we have been longing to call." " I used to know your husband," said the first woman. " What a happy man he must be ! " " He is well," I said coldly. " You are very fond of flowers, we hear. It must be such a delight to cultivate them ! " JUDITH'S GARDEN 175 " It is," I replied, with animation. " My rose bed is still in bloom." " How we should love to see it ! " " You shall certainly have that pleasure. Come into the garden." They gave little screams of mock delight when they beheld Tom Nor- ton's bushes bearing my roses. " Do you ever break them ? " asked the elder lady. " No," I said untruthfully ; " I just let them stay on the bushes. It seems a sin to pick flowers." " Indeed " (rather crestfallen), " we always supposed flowers were to pick." " Some people think so, but others think differently ; say, eccentric people like myself. They believe flowers can feel." Xx <:^ y^ 176 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Not eccentric, oh, no ! " they mur- mured. I bade them good-by, and felt my ears tingle for an hour afterward, thinking what they could and would say about me. Later in the afternoon I picked two great bunches of roses, one for Hetty Allen, who mistook me for an orchid ; and the other for the poor old woman that, with a mother's love, fancied in me her " Mary Ann." Pat took them across the fields to the poor-house. yz y^ i> / BUILD AN AIR CASTLE A TE last night, by the stage-coach, Mr. Rainsford, the florist, sent me a basket of asters — large, hardy plants ready for bedding. As if the plants were not enough, the stage-coach disgorged a visitor. I eyed him askance; not so. Max. He literally stepped on my basket of asters in his haste to clasp the hand of this visitor. 177 y^ 178 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Where did you drop from ? " he cried. " On my way to Boston," said the stranger. " Thought I would look you up for a night." " You did right, old man ! This is my wife. Judith, let me present my old college mate, Mr. Donald War- ren." My mock self murmured, " So glad to know you ! " then we walked back to the house, and presently I ran in to Rhoda. " We've got company, Rhoda ! " I exclaimed. " 'Deed I knows it, honey. Don' I see him gittin' out de coach .? We'se got a good dinnah. All I needs ex- try is t'other head o' lettus and sum mo' redishes." JUDITH'S GARDEN 179 " I'll get them for you, Rhoda," I said, and I flew out into the now dusky kitchen garden. Here I ran against a boy coming up the walk between the rows of four o'clocks. He thrust a letter into my hand and turned ; I saw his bare legs twinkling down the path. The letter was from Pat. By the light of the kitchen lamp I de- ciphered it. y^ " Honoured Missus : This is writ to tell ye I've felled and spraint me ankle. Me ruff sprung a lake an' I got on the Ihadder to mind it. It bruck an' let me doun, — the Ihadder I mane, not the ruff. I've got me leg in hot wather, but thim ashters air worritin' me. They're comin' to-noight y\ i8o JUDITH'S GARDEN and nade plantin' to-morry. Look out for thim. If yese can't plant them, sprinkle thim well wid wather, and set thim in the shade ; but the shpade is handy under the binch, an' thim ashters shu'd be set foive inches apart. " Your respictful sarvent, " Patrick Monahan." XX Now I was sole gardener — mon- arch of all I surveyed. Before sleeping that night, I de- cided upon my course. The asters must be planted, and the very bed I had designed for them was directly under the guest chamber on the south side of the house. What a horrifying thing it would be, should the guest look forth and discover his host's wife turning earth % Ui^ \u ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 235 VC^t I turned quickly and beheld Pris- cilla Brown. She stood beside a tall shrub, its umbrageous foliage making a charm- ing background for her quaint figure. In one hand was a little basket hold- ing a strange-looking plant. I suppose I stared at her ; I usually do stare at things when they are so pretty. Miss Priscilla was dressed in a pale sage-green gown, its scant skirt not quite reaching below her dainty feet. But the simple waist had a yoke of sheer white lace, with a full fichu of rosy gauze draped low on the shoulders. She wore a sage-green bonnet, with a long pink plume, and a wreath of roses under the brim. It framed the sweetest, fairest face in the world. % ^\ 236 JUDITH'S GARDEN I guessed at once that this queer costume had belonged to mamma of histrionic fame ; but it was none the less becoming. " Father bade me fetch you this plant," she continued. "He found it growing in the cranny of a rock. He thinks it is a very rare orchid; and he also wished me to ask you if you are troubled with bugs on potatoes ? He has just invented an insect ex- terminator." " Excuse me one moment," I said, and I jotted down the diameter of my sunflower. " Are you measuring them," asked Miss Priscilla, " in order to estimate how much seed there will be for the hens .? " " No," I said frankly ; " I have only M ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 237 one fowl and I wish he were dead. I was just measuring the flowers for fun. I do a great deal for fun's sake." She said nothing, but toyed with the end of her fichu. " Your father ought to be apotheo- sised," I said softly. " Why ? " she asked. " I was thinking of that ' insect exterminator.' Are you sure it is bound to kill .? " " Oh, yes," she answered brightly ; " father says it is a perfect success. He was working yesterday in our potato patch. It gathered three quarts of potato bugs ; very nicely, too." " I don't raise potatoes," I said a little grimly. " Do you think it will kill off the aphis, the red spider, or V^l ~7 ^' 238 JUDITH'S GARDEN the mealy bug? Can it catch an aster beetle ? " " I don't know," she answered laugh- ingly ; " you will have to ask father." " Your father is fond of invent- ing? " I said, not a little curiously. A proud, tender look shone in her face. " Yes, indeed," she replied, " father is wonderful. He is now at work on his last and greatest inven- tion." " What is it ? if I may ask." She leaned a little closer to me. " We don't talk much about it," she said, " but I know it will do no harm to tell you. It is an air-ship, and it is almost perfected ; only one little thing eludes father, then the prob- lem of aerial navigation will be solved." ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 239 " How interesting ! " I said ex- citedly. What further secrets she might have disclosed were interrupted by Pat coming down the path. I called to him. " Pat, here is a plant Mr. Brown has kindly sent me." He doffed his hat to Priscilla, then lifted the plant curiously. " Phwat is it ? " he inquired. " Father thinks it is an orchid," replied Priscilla. " Shure, thin," said Pat, " 'tis one o' poor Hitty Allen's plants. It wan- dered off, I sushpect, an' hid itself in a rock. Shall I plant it on a shtick .? " " You know best, Pat," I answered cheerfully ; for whenever I feel in doubt about anything, I leave it to him. 'n ^1 240 JUDITH'S GARDEN He was going away, with the plant held tenderly in one knotty hand, when Miss Priscilla stopped him. " Did you know Miss Allen ? " she asked. " Hoo ! " cried Pat, " did I know me own fambly } Miss Allen an' me wor frinds afore ye wor born, miss." " Won't you tell me, please, about the orchids that grew in the old glass house in our garden ? " " Is the house still there } " I asked. " To be sure. Belinda shuts the hens in it every night." "Arrah, 'tis a hin-house now," groaned Pat, " an' I remimbers the toime 'twor full o' orchards. 'Twor a foine sight ! Sum o' thim shtick plants looked loike snakes, an' had flowers as red as blood a-drippin' a <^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 241 frum 'em. Sum were freckled all over loike a schoolboy ; an' sum were white as snow. All, all growin' out o' shticks, unco' loike. Bad cess to 'em! Shure, they druv Hitty Allen out o' her head ; she wint daft o'er 'em. 'Twor an ould uncle — may the divil fly away wid him ! — as sint her the first plant frum Africay. She wor con- tint enuf afor wid airthly flowers, but that orchard clean knocked the sinse out o' her; 'twor the ruin o' Hitty Allen." He sidled up to me. " Sure, mis- sus," he whispered, " shall I be after plantin' this on a shtick, or shall I duck it in the brook .? " My wish to become acquainted with Priscilla Brown was gratified. Before she left me that morning we had Xx y\ 242 JUDITH'S GARDEN made a complete tour of the garden, and her basket was running over with flowers. She had even confided to me a great hope. " You see," she said timidly, "father needs so much money to carry on his inventions that there is, really, — well, not much left. I have thought, maybe, I might use the old orchid house for profit, — perhaps raise violets in it. Do you think I could } I have dreamed about it." "You might," I said doubtfully, " providing you could kill off the bugs, and make the plants bloom." After she was gone I sat down on the bench under my pet elm, and began to plan. A curious little yellow bird darted out of a bush and sang me a song, but I was too preoccupied JUDITH'S GARDEN 243 to pay him much attention, I was busily calculating : if Priscilla Brown had so many plants, and each plant bore so many violets, and the market price of violets was so and so, she could make a certain sum of money the first year. The second year the plants would double so many times, and each plant would bear so many violets, and the market price of violets would be — Why, Priscilla Brown would get rich. Just think of it — rich! Then, why could I not marry her to the man who loved flowers 1 "Ain' you'se comin' to lunch, honey ? " " Lunch ! " I cried. " Can it be so late ? Where has the morning gone .? In a minute, Rhoda." y' 244 JUDITH'S GARDEN I went back to the house musing. My friend had gone, and how Httle I had missed her ! I had passed a most dehghtful half-day, measuring flowers, talking to Priscilla Brown, and (men- tally) raising violets. I felt so very cheerful that I half reproached my- self ; yet how could I help it ? — the sun was shining and the sky was blue. Old Mother Nature was rejoicing ; and why not her own dear daughter } Let me be glad. Xa ^r^^/ ^1 INTRODUCE A RELATIVE XVI HAVE an aunt. I should not mention her, for most people possess aunts, only she is somewhat eccentric ; and I being her only living relative on my father's side, she naturally takes a great interest in me. I worry her some — poor lady ! she feels that in certain ways I am not a properly con- structed person. My aunt is rich. Her late hus- band left her a large fortune ; and 245 '-^\ 246 JUDITH'S GARDEN being childless, she has fixed upon me as her heir. It has not disturbed me much, for she is yet scarce sixty, and I had a great-grandmother who lived to be ninety-six; then, again, I like my aunt and had just as soon she would live as not. To-day I received a letter from her and a gift — a check for one hundred dollars. She wrote : — " My dear Judith : I hear you are living in the country, and I sup- pose running out-of-doors at all hours with nothing on your head. Do you not know, dear child, such actions will ruin your complexion } That lost, what else have you to fall back upon } " I hope you have a pair of good %\ ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 247 garden-gloves. I feel very sure that your clothes are not in proper repair. Do not think so much about flowers, but more of your husband's welfare and your own personal appearance. I enclose a check. Take this money and buy yourself suitable attire ; knowing you so well, I feel certain you have sowed and planted all your summer frocks. " In your last letter you talked of nothing but your garden and the plants therein. Dear child, you never mentioned your own husband's name. Is he not more to you than all the vegetation in the world } Do you not realise how serious life is — its grave responsibilities.? I fear your soul is set to earthly things — such as gar- dens. But I will not scold you, for I .j-^^\ -V rW ^' 248 JUDITH'S GARDEN love you dearly — my only brother's only child ! " Remember your complexion ; hasten to buy the gloves. Take the money I send you and make yourself presentable in your husband's eye. Think serious thoughts. With heart- felt affection, I am, my dear niece, your own - Aunt Matilda." I looked at the check, and a real kindly smile tilted the corners of my mouth ; but it vanished when I thought of the tiresome journey to the city in search of wearing apparel, then the trials with dressmakers. I almost wished Aunt Matilda had kept her money ; in that case I could have stayed at home and worn my old frocks in peace. y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 249 I had been gathering flowers, and a large basket filled with phlox and mignonette stood on the bench be- side me. I bent over it. How sweet and fresh the flowers were ! Their robes were already fashioned for them, — no trouble, no misfits. Na- ture is not given to misfits. Perhaps it was the delicious odour of the mignonette that suddenly ban- ished every forlorn thought and made me feel glad and gay. I forgot all about the journey and the dreaded shopping, for a great idea had come to me. I began to calculate : — " Seventy dollars will more than buy all I need," I told myself; "and with the thirty left I can — yes, I will, buy violet plants for Priscilla Brown." In less than five minutes I had. ^\ 250 JUDITH'S GARDEN mentally, scuttled every hen out of the old orchid house, replaced its broken panes, and set out two long rows of healthy, vigorous plants, — all sending up violets of such size and growth as may bloom in spirit world but I fear were never seen on this mundane sphere. I was just about running to confide in Pat, when a thought deterred me : " It was not likely that Priscilla Brown would receive such a gift from me." Plainly, Mr. Electrical Brown was a gentleman; and would a gentle- man allow his daughter to accept an act of charity? Yet how could I relinquish this delightful idea.? The more I thought of those violets, the more my spirit soared. It must be managed. I sought Pat. ^^ JUDITH'8 GARDEN 251 He was at his everlasting weeding — the one thing I dislike to do. I can dig and rake with a cheerful heart, but pulling weeds depresses me. Those little miserable plebeian things are so strong and vigorous, so determined to spoil my flowers, that I look upon them as real enemies ; and it is hard to be always fighting one's enemies. It is so much easier to keep in touch with friends. Not so with Pat : like some intrepid reformer, he makes an onslaught upon the weeds and comes off conqueror — that is, until another crop stealthily springs up in a night. I told him my plans. Pat is as wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove. He said : — " Begorra, thim Browns air poor. S ^1 252 JUDITH'S GARDEN The ould gintleman is a thrifle touched. I've heerd he'd tak' the bread out o' their mouths to git money to invint sumthin ; but shure, he's no common sort. As ye say, 'tis best to be on the sacret. I'll manage thot. An' is the moon full.? " " It is," I replied. " Thin I'll stale over this very noight an' measure the sash in the ould orchard house ; 'twill nade sum " What a good idea," I said ; " then you can buy the glass at the village store for me; and, Pat, some other I bright night you can steal over and put it in. We must be very secret." " Shure, shure," said Pat. I took the noon stage en route for the city. I knew if I stopped to con- JUDITH'S GARDEN 253 7^\ sider, I should disobey Aunt Matilda. Next day I returned, hot and wrath- ful, but triumphant. I had made several purchases ; one of my pack- ages was as tall as myself. This I placed carefully away in the spare room, ready for future use. I had heard in town a rumour that Mr. Tom Norton talked of coming home. Supposing that this rumour were true, and he should want his paradise — my paradise — back again ? The thought filled me with dismay. Perhaps next summer the spring all edged with daffodils and tall ferns would be his. My roses would bloom for him, and all the morning-glories — no, it was a great comfort to me to think the morning-glories would not come up, nor the stock with its y^ 254 JUDITH'S GARDEN \^^ heavy racemes of tinted flowers. Oh, how could I bear to lose what seemed so like my own ! I threw aside my bonnet, and quite forgetful of my complexion, ran through the cool paths of my dear garden, my Eden on earth ! It was one of those lovely after- noons when there is just enough wind to set the flowers bowing and the white clouds sailing through the blue sky. An afternoon when the brown thrush's flutelike note is heard in the grove, and the air is cool and balmy. One cannot be unhappy long, especially in a garden. In less than five minutes my mood had changed. I mentally counted all the intervening months between this and next spring, and my habitual be- JUDITH'S GARDEN 255 lief in good luck came to aid me. " Doubts are ill-omened," I thought ; " it is far better to trust in luck, far better to trust in everything that you most desire, and never, never to doubt the good." You are welcome to this advice. I felt like a pilgrim returned to my own. If it were not so ungenteel I should have skipped down the paths; as it was, I went behind a big ever- green and jumped about some, just to be rid of a superabundance of joy. I can't tell you what makes me so happy when I see green things growing; but I know I feel like the brown thrush, ready to burst with praise. At length I found Pat, but my gardener looked a little glum. -7 y\ 256 JUDITH'S GARDEN I " Did you measure the sash in the orchid house ? " I asked. Pat leaned on his hoe, and a look of disgust, half whimsical and half real, came into his face. " Bedad," says he, " I wasn't let." " What happened ? " " I'll tell ye : last noight I wint over, an' whin all was still about the Brown premises, I shtole into the garden an' cloimed to the ruf of the ould orchard house ; thin I whipped out me meas- ure, an' jest as I was measuring good, bedad! thot limb o' Satan called to me. " I looked doon, an' thar she stood in the moonlight, wid a gun p'inted strate at me. " Ses she, ' Coom doon out o' thot agin I shoot ye!' ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 257 " ' Whist ! ' ses I. " ' I'll not whist,' ses she, ' coom doon or I'll fire.' " An' bedad ! I feared she wud ; but I was not to be fashed by a woman. " Ses I, ' Hoold on.' " Ses she, ' I won't hoold on. Ye've coom to stale me bins ! ' " ' Divil tak' yer ould bins ! ' ses I. ' I've coom to measure the orchard house,' an' in shpite o' her, I whipped up me measure an' got the size o' a pane ; thin I cloimed doon, fur shure, good Irishmen are skurse, an' I didn't know but she might tak' a fit an' the gun go off. " Wall, I no sooner put me fate to the ground than she arter me. Be jabers! she chased me clane to the lake, the ould limb o' Satan ! " XX (> ■^ ^' 258 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Didn't she recognise you, Pat ? " " Not a bit o' it. I kept me hat pulled doon o'er me face. Shure, ye know, wese planned to be sacret." I laughed, but Pat looked so seri- ous that I knew it was no joke to him. " We must propitiate her, Pat," I said. " Phwat may thot mane } " " Win her over to our side." " Shure, I'd thought o' thot. I've a head o' cabbage in me yard that's a monshter. 'Twill break me ould woman's heart to part wid it ; but, be jabers ! I'll pluck it an' presint it to the limb o' Satan. As ye say, it may pro-pitty-ate her ; but, shure, if I had her gun I'd kape me cabbage." )\JZ y^ I FIND A SUCCESSFUL HIDING PLACE XVII HAVE two dress- makers in the house — sisters, by the name of Lark. Meadow Larks I call them, for they look so hearty and full of good cheer. They are both spinsters and little given to the vanities of this world. They comb their hair back from their foreheads so tightly that I should think their eyes would ache, and they wear the plainest sort of dresses fashioned of dark print, I 3^ ^' 260 JUDITH'S GARDEN v\^' like them ; that is, I like them when I am in the garden and they are upstairs. The first day they came I laid out all my purchases on the bed, — a white dress, a pink dress, and a green dress. The green dress I bought to please myself, the others, to please my husband, who, in spite of Aunt Matilda's hint, is more to me than any plant or vegetable that grows. I know I shall feel so good in that dull green gown, so akin to growing things, that, perhaps, when dear old Mother Nature spies me she will know I am, in truth, one of her de- voted daughters. When I walk amid the shrubbery I shall sink into it, be- come a part of it, with only my head and hands to show that I am one y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 261 of those to-be-pitied human beings, called a woman. I ask you truly, which can take the more comfort, a vigorous, healthy shrub or a dissatisfied, nervous woman ? Which is the more to be envied, a great hardy tree, so strong and reposeful, so given to longevity, or a restless, short lived man ? We think we have far the best of it in this curious little world; but I doubt, if a tree could talk, it would declare itself willing to accept our burdens, our self-imposed sufferings, our brief lives, even for the glory of being called a man. The Meadow Larks admired my goods with little cheerful twitters of satisfaction ; but they looked a trifle queer when I brought out my big purchase from the spare-room closet. 262 JUDITH'S GARDEN " There," I said, setting it before them, " is a fine lay figure. It repre- sents ' me.' It won't faint away while you are fitting it, it is easily pleased, and does not send back work." "What!" cried the elder Meadow Lark, " do you intend us to fit that creature } " " That creature represents me, if you please. It has exactly my bust measure, length of arms, and size of waist. What more can you want ? Of course I expect you to fit it ; and kindly make the green gown first, for I bought that to suit myself. After I am pleased, I always feel like pleas- ing others. Good-morning." I ran down into the garden and hid, so the Meadow Larks should not find me. pC? y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 263 I always notice when I set out to hide I am generally found. This morning I hid behind the ice-house, on a little seat amid a tangle of morning-glories. I had some lit- erature with me which I prefer to Shakespeare. It consisted of a pile of floral catalogues, and a magazine entitled, How to Grow Flowers. I was just going to have the best time, when Rhoda found me. Poor Rhoda, she really looked ex- cited, and her turban was all awry. "Oh, missus," said she, "de stage- coach has done fotched a lot o' visitors." " How many .? " I asked. " I'se counted five." Five visitors! and I so pleasantly ^1 264 JUDITH'S GARDEN engaged ! " How do they look, Rhoda ? " I inquired. "Wall, honey, sum is young an' sum is old." " I'm afraid," I said solemnly, " they 'QzX are my relatives." " 'Deed, no, missus, dey's jes' folks frum de big hotel. I'se seen 'em afore. Dem ain't no relatives." " Wherever can I hide, Rhoda } " I pleaded. " I don' know, honey " — and all of Rhoda's ivories showed — " but Pat he clean out de cistern yes'day; dar ain't no water in it, an' he lef de ladder down dar." " The very place, Rhoda ! Peep \ %' out and see if the coast is clear." " Dar ain't a soul in sight, honey." I scrambled up my literature and PO y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 265 made for the back garden. Rhoda held the ladder, and I went down into a cool subterranean depth, taking with me the magazine, How to Grow Flowers. " Just leave a little crack for light, Rhoda," I whispered, as she replaced the cover. " Now go in and tell those visitors I've gone down — oh, anywhere." A ladder is not the most uncom- fortable seat in the world, nor a cistern, minus water, the most unde- sirable place in the world upon a hot day. A cool greenish light pervaded my retreat, and not a fly descended to torment me. I so enjoyed my- self that I was ready to exclaim like Horace Greeley when in prison: — " Thank God ! here is a little time to myself." ^1 266 JUDITH'S GARDEN It was an hour or more before Rhoda appeared to let me up. " Missus," she whispered, " dey's gone. I done tell 'em you was down de valley, — dat wa'n't no lie; but dey say dey'll look round de garden, and jes' stay till now. Come up, honey ; one de Miss Larks wants you." " I'm not ready to come up," I said. " I am enjoying myself. Go back and tell the Meadow Lark I am up in that room now. She knows I am there. What does she want of anybody else .'' " " She say she want you very per- tickler, honey." " She knows where to find me. Go away, Rhoda." " Jes' you say, honey ; but I'm 'fraid you'se gwine to ketch cold." y^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 267 %' " Catch cold on such a day ! Don't be foolish." She went away, and I spent an- other short delightful hour reading, when suddenly the cover was jerked off the cistern. I heard a peculiar noise, and before I could expostulate^ down upon me came a perfect deluge of cold water. " For God ! what you'se doin' .? " I heard Rhoda cry. " Begorra, I'm rinsing out the cistern," said Pat. But Rhoda was before him franti- cally pushing him back. She knelt by the opening, and called, " Honey, honey, is you kilt ? " " No, Rhoda," I replied, as I climbed up the ladder, a dripping but justly punished Undine. ^' / SOLVE A PROBLEM XVIII HAT is more pleasing to the eye, when riding through the coun- try on a hot day, than to come across a patch of cool green cabbages splat- tering a hillside ? or long rows of tender green celery tops, peering up from the muck of a fertile valley? These growing vegetables have a beauty of their own, almost equal to a floral display. There is nothing much more interesting than to watch one's 268 y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 269 own potatoes grow; and if I could not have a flower garden, I should certainly have a kitchen garden. The present of a green succulent vegetable is not to be despised ; for it (the vegetable) serves two pur- poses, — that of being admired and afterward eaten. Pat and I es- teemed his fine cabbage a very pre- sentable gift to the Browns' Belinda. She was not ungrateful, for she accepted the cabbage in the spirit it was given ; but she was obdurate when a polite suggestion was made to her that the hens move out of the greenhouse. " God a mercy ! " said she, in a loud strident whisper, " there's no meat to be got. What should we do without the hens ? Vilets — go way ! They s^i ^1 270 JUDITH'S GARDEN blows when they pleases; but the hens have got to lay." That there was a great deal of sense in her remarks I was obliged to admit, when I reflected what could happen to violets. They could be taken with the red spider or the blight ; they could freeze ; and lastly, they could refuse to bloom. To be sure, hens could get the pip ; but judging from Tom Norton's rooster, they were built on a scheme cal- culated to endure ; for that hardy, pestiferous creature was as healthy as an Indian. Then, why not hens ? It was clear to me, if Belinda could be won over and the hens become homeless, a great responsibility would rest upon my shoulders. In such a case I might even be the means of ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 271 Via starving the Browns. The very thought gave me an attack of cold shivers. What could I do — give up my plan ? No, that would be impossi- ble. Plans are plans, and this was one of my pet ones. I sat in the garden a whole hour before I reached the bright and wonderful decision that Belinda must have a hen-house built for her. How much would a hen-house cost.? I calculated thirty dollars, at least. Oh, well, I could take my month's allowance; but then, I had planned to spend the most of that for Madonna lilies. In fancy I had seen a hedge of these lilies growing on this earth right at the end of my garden. Could I give up the bulbs and build a hen-house } It seemed a frightful sacrifice, but at last I rose ia y^l ^' 272 JUDITH'S GARDEN above it. I determined to build the hen-house with this month's allow- ance, then take next month's allow- ance and buy the lilies. I really should be nothing out after all. It always pleases me to make a sac- rifice, that is, when it costs me little. It gives me the virtuous feeling that, somehow, I am a trifle set apart from the rest of the human race — a supe- rior being. I remember feeling thus when I gave away my blue henrietta cloth. I detested the gown; it did not fit me and I seldom wore it; so I sacrificed it, and the pleasant sensa- tion I had for days afterward decided me not to regret it. When Belinda found that she could have a nice, snug hen-house free of cost, she was quite willing to exchange (> ^ ^ ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 273 it for the shattered old orchid house. She assured us that Mr. Brown would not so much as notice this new addition to his estate. Meeting that gentle- man a few nights later, and noting his superior, aerial look, I was quite of her opinion : Mr. Brown would not see anything so common as a hen-house. Pat hired a man who looked like a centenarian, but who had before built similar fowl palaces. That he was a good carpenter and worked cheap I have cause to know. In a few days he had finished the building to my entire satisfaction, and received his reward with a thankful heart. The money was a Godsend to him. Now there was nothing in the way of Priscilla Brown's having her violet X^ ■^\ house. r-{3i I PAY A VISIT TO MY AUNT XIX HA VE been away. You will wonder that I could leave my garden in this interesting of all months — August, the very carnival of flower time. But I had to go. Aunt Matilda wrote she was coming to visit me, and I keenly realised what that meant. To be sure, she would stop but a few days on her way to a fashionable watering- place ; but those few days ! I love my aunt dearly, but I love her best ^i^Ji JUDITH'S GARDEN 275 away from me. She wrote she would come and see me — or, would I come and see her? A few days at a fashionable watering-place, she thought, would do me good. If I decided to visit her, all expenses would be paid. I slept on it, and the next morning reread her letter in the garden. It made me weep, for there was but one way out of it — I must go to her. If I were to be lectured (as I knew I should be), I would be lectured outside of my earthly paradise, for here only peace and harmony reigned. When I told Max that I had de- cided to go to Aunt Matilda, he looked queer. " What will you wear .? " he inquired. ^' 276 JUDITH'S GARDEN " Haven't I three new gowns ? " I cried indignantly. " Do they fit you ? " he asked. " Of course they do. Did I not pay a good round sum for a lay figure to represent me .'' I am sure those Meadow Larks had every opportunity to fit me. They could work for hours on that figure, while I should have fidgeted in ten minutes." " Have you a bonnet ? " I looked a little blank, remember- ing the fate of my bonnet. " Oh, I can wear my sailor hat," I said. " I've heard, at fashionable watering- places, bonnets are quite out of style." So I went. I hope I shall never go again. The first day I was there Aunt Matilda spent in lecturing me. rid ^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 277 She criticised my gown until I really felt indignant for the Meadow- Larks. One minute she would call me her " dear brother's only child ! " and the next she would deplore my eccentricities. How unkind it was in fate to make me, who would soon possess all her earthly means, a being who cared for nothing but flowers and vegetables! She had an affliction of the gout and really thought her end was near. Once she asked me, very earnestly, what I intended to do with the money she should leave me. I should have answered her dis- creetly, but as usual I forgot myself. " Why," I said, in a jubilant tone, " in that case, I shall build an im- mense greenhouse and buy my yz 278 JUDITH'S GARDEN bulbs by the bushel. I will have such a garden — ah ! " I caught myself; for Aunt Matilda was in tears. Those tiresome chattering women that I met at the great hotel ! They were all rich, and had maids to pick up their thimbles or to thread their needles. They did lace work and exchanged gossip, while I sat there in my green gown like a trans- planted, homesick shrub. The only thing that soothed me was to wonder what Pat was doing. Was he chasing the aster bugs with intent to kill, or was he weeding the stock? I wondered if the dahlia hedge had bloomed, and if the cos- mos had come out. One day, while Aunt Matilda was y^ (7 ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 279 taking her nap, — poor woman, she was quite exhausted from giving me advice that I never intended to ac- cept, — I saw a young girl sitting opposite me. She was exquisitely dressed in a gown of white mull trimmed with lace and ribbon, but her face looked quite unhappy. As I was feeling in a like low con- dition of spirits, an invisible bridge of sympathy was silently erected be- tween us. At last she spoke in a low, petu- lant tone. " Oh, I am so tired," she said ; " I almost wish I were dead." " It is a killing life," I remarked. " Isn't it .? " she said. " It's just dress, eat, and dress. I'm dead sick of it." 28o JUDITH'S GARDEN " Why don't you get a garden ? " I inquired. " A garden ? " she looked surprised. " Did you ever dig or plant in one ? " She appeared a trifle disgusted. " No, I never did ; did you ? " "Yes, indeed," I answered blithely; " and it's the only life worth living. I just adore it." I had been so held down that I suppose I was like bot- tled champagne when the cork is re- moved — I bubbled over. For one good hour I entertained that girl with a full description of my garden and the little grove back of it. I told her of the lake, of the early dawns on that lovely water, the gor- geous sunsets, and the singing birds that haunted it. When I was through ^'. ^ y^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 281 and my face felt like a piece of scarlet flannel, I beheld, instead of one girl, a whole row of women, with lace work idle and suspended needles, taking in this apostrophe to nature. I felt so ashamed of myself, so afraid of what Aunt Matilda would say when she heard of it (as I knew she surely would), that I slipped away at once and hid in my room the rest of the afternoon. That night, as I was dressing for dinner, — in another effort of the Meadow Larks, not so great a suc- cess as the green gown, — there came a knock at my door. I opened it, and a servant handed in a note. It was from one of the leaders of society, politely asking me if I would X' 282 JUDITH'S GARDEN not repeat my lecture of the after- noon in the parlour that evening. In less than five minutes I was arrayed in my night-gown and in bed, with a towel pinned tightly about my head. Aunt Matilda came in a little later and found me dreadfully ill (?). She ordered tea and toast for me when I could just as well have eaten a hearty dinner. In fact, I told her this sort of attack always made me strangely hungry; but she thought it would not be wise for me to eat much, so I simply starved, and trembled at my narrow escape. Next morning I rose early, long be- fore a fashionable woman had stirred, and hastened to the telegraph office. There I wrote a message to Max: J^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 283 " You have just got to fall ill and telegraph me to come home. If I stay another day, I shall die." The agent pointed out where I might con- dense it; but I told him I wished it emphatic, and cheerfully paid the ex- tra charge. Then I hurried back to the hotel, went to bed, and felt quite unable to rise for breakfast. About noon I received the answer to my message. It read : — " I am indisposed. Hasten home. Max." I showed it to Aunt Matilda. " You are not well enough to travel, dear child," she said. " Oh, I must, I must," I cried. " When Max is ill, who shall keep me from his bedside ? " yt ^' 284 JUDITH'S GARDEN When I was once aboard the train, and the engine had snorted a last farewell to that fashionable watering- place, I began to feel as chipper as a hardy brown thrush. I took out \XJ/j:A'T DiJNAT.D ll'AKRhN IJJOKJiD A I hi:k ! ca^XTED ins heart ivell losi " Vv--<* 4l< ^. yy JUDITH'S GARDEN 297 house, and I read to them, out of a Httle book, just how to raise violets. I felt, instinctively, that I was about as tiresome as a tract woman, and I knew from the inattention that Pris- cilla bestowed upon me, those violets were doomed. So it proved ; in spite of poor old Belinda sitting up nights to keep the fire, they dwindled; got the red spider and yellow leaves ; and out of the whole crop Priscilla Brown only picked ten violets that winter. Did I regret the venture.'' No, I gloried in it ; for was it not the step- ping stone to a most delightful ro- mance — the sequel to my joyful summer } Mr. Donald Warren lingered with us a week. Every morning I sent >^(( X. ^^ ^1 298 JUDITH'S GARDEN him to the Browns with a basket of flowers, asking him, as a special favour, to deliver them for me. He always complied cheerfully. I also sent little notes to Priscilla during the day tell- ing her how to care for the violets, by this same cheerful messenger. It was wonderful, his alacrity to wait upon me ; quite unlike Max. Once when I was busy he inquired solicitously, if there was not some- thing I wished to send the Browns .? " To be sure," I said, and hunted up a flower catalogue. Max, who happened to see it, laughed and shook his head. " Fie ! fie ! little matchmaker," he said. There is much more to tell, but I am not going to spoil a romance by 'j;r JUDITH'S GARDEN 299 cutting it short or by mixing it up with my gardening. This story is for people who have gardens or expect to have them, not for lovers. Neither is it for the rich. They have gardens to be sure, but rarely enjoy them. How can they, when they are pre- sided over by stiff-necked gardeners, and they are not allowed to dig or plant or sow in them ? All the privilege the rich have is to order about these same gardeners, who do pretty much as they please after all. Emerson says, " If the rich were only as rich as the poor think them ! " Nor is this story for the very poor, who have no time to garden, who must toil endlessly — God pity them ! It is written for those who possess Mr GREENHOUSE XXII HERE are some things that pay, not always in the results we aim at, but often in unheard-of, astonishing ways. The building of a practical hen-house, the stocking of a violet house, seemed to lead up to the art of horticulture; instead, they led up to something very different but none the less delightful. It is a great satisfaction to me to feel that I planned the match. f3' ^1 302 JUDITH'S GARDEN I believe if I could not go to the country but once a year, I should go in September or early October. Then the fields are full of bluebirds, lingering before their winter exodus. Then come those peaceful, gorgeous days when the earth seems like a fairy bubble, reflecting a thousand tints too lovely to be lost. There is another world mirrored in the lake, so perfect that one almost doubts its unreality. My gladioluses are one blaze of glory. There is such satisfaction in a gladiolus bulb ; it only wants a little room in a darkened chamber of the earth, to think awhile ; then it sends forth long reedlike leaves, and by and by a whole procession of flowers clamber up a sturdy stem O J^ (T JUDITH'S GARDEN 303 and burst into brilliant colours. I have such lovely shades, — from white, flecked with pink, to pale yellow; from scarlet to the deepest crimson. They look as cheerful as the poppy bed in July. I only sleep indoors now. These days are too precious to lose. I want every minute of them out in the sun- shine and glad fresh air. I realise that winter will soon be here, when all the green things I love will be fast asleep, and I shall be trans- planted back in town. How I hate the thought ! If it were not for my duty to Max, I should remain here all winter, and make smudges on the frosty window panes just to watch my garden beneath its mantle of snow. "^"1 JZ ,P^ y\ 304 JUDITH'S GARDEN I have the Madonna lilies and a hundred tulip bulbs. All day Pat and I have been planting them. The lilies we massed in clumps, and the tulips we set in rows in a long narrow bed. When Max expostulated with me for spending all my allowance for bulbs, he said : — " This is not your place. Next year Tom Norton may want his gar- den back again." " That is true," I replied cheerfully, "but I am like my grandfather. Whenever he planted a tree, he said, ' I may not live to enjoy its shade, but there are others who will.' I presume Mr. Norton will not object to a fine tulip bed, and who ever despised Madonna lilies ? " %\ ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 305 "Oh, little wife, little wife!" groaned Max. Supposing I never came back here, I have so enjoyed buying and planting these bulbs that I cannot have lost. To me it is just as sensible to spend one's money for things one really enjoys, as to buy with it bonnets and furbelows. Pat came over this morning with a stout-looking root in his hand. He planted it very carefully in a conspicu- ous spot on the lawn. " There, be jabers," he cried, stamp- ing the earth about it, " is a sizable red piny. 'Twor sadly naded in this garden. 'Tis the only flower me ould woman loikes." I laughed, for I seemed to see, next summer, its blowzy silken leaves ^' 306 JUDITH'S GARDEN opening into hardy red blooms, — a good, steadfast, plebeian flower, and as wholesome looking as a cabbage. I have been consulting with Pat, and we have planned to tie up all the roses in straw, to strew the lily-of-the- valley beds, and to cover the tulips. The hyacinth bulbs. On the south side of the house, will be boarded over, — everything shipshape for winter. In a few days we move back to town. Last night came a hard frost, and now the garden looks a wreck of blighted hopes. In these high altitudes the frosts come early and the winters are long. Pat went through the garden this morning looking mournfully at the blackened beds. It is all over, my joyful summer. y^ XKi XI JUDITH'S GARDEN 307 I tried hard to keep the tears back when I looked out of my bedroom window. Max noticed me, and sought to comfort me. " You must drive into town with me, dear," he said. " I have some- thing to show you." That something was a small green- house built out from the rear of our dining room. It was fitted with a steam coil and the benches were filled with dirt. "All ready for another garden," Max said. Dear Max ! I know he is a most unusual husband; for what other man would have thought of pleasing his wife this way .'' Now, I shall not have a dreary winter, given over to society, but a continuation of summer on a smaller scale. I need not step y\ 308 JUDITH'S GARDEN- IA- out of my own house to find this summer; it is only two steps from my dining room. I was so deHghted with the green- house that I forgot to grieve when we finally left for town. To be sure, it wrenched my heart to part with Pat, and that poor old man even shed tears. He promised faithfully to §erve me another summer, and I feel very sure that something will happen, — Mr. Norton will remain in Europe, or else he will take a dislike to coun- try life, and I shall have my own again. Nature has so few real lovers that she is not going to disappoint me. I bade Priscilla Brown good-by and advised her to tend well her violets. " Mr. Warren will visit us ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 309 again in the spring," I remarked casually, "shortly after our return to the country. He seems infatuated with this vicinity." Then I bade good-by to my earthly paradise. " I go to prepare another," I said. For the next few weeks my time was all taken up buying plants and bulbs for my greenhouse. I visited the florists, and their kindness and attention I shall never forget. They really seemed fond of me, and never tired of telling or advising me what plants to buy. The result was, I drew on my allowance for three months ahead. My new winter sacque I put into daffodils, Easter lilies, and hyacinths. As I intended to buy a good one, I had quite a (7 y^ 310 JUDITH'S GARDEN little show for the money. My win- ter bonnet I put into crocuses and primroses ; my cloth gown into vines and miscellaneous plants; then I looked at my charitable fund. The longer I looked at it, the more I was tempted; and I am ashamed to confess, that in the end I took the money that should have gone to foreign missions and bought with it a few extra dozens of daffodils. You see I got to thinking how crimpy and yellow they would look — all in bloom in the sunlight. But, let it be said to my everlasting credit, I marked every pot in which I planted those daffodils, with a large F. and M. So, when I have had the delight of coddling them into bloom, they shall all be carried to sick and sor- ^' 7\- JUDITH'S GARDEN 3" rowful souls who need a flower to cheer them. I have not done right, I know, to put my whole wardrobe into the greenhouse ; but who does do right in this wicked world? My latest purchase is a bird in a gilded cage, to sing for me among my flowers. I advertised for a singer, and a freckled-faced, snub-nosed child brought me one. He is a beautiful orange-coloured bird. " Its name is Nancy," said the small girl, "but she's a he. We thought she was a she, until Nancy began to sing; then mother knew she was a he. We didn't change the name, because Nancy answers to it." I took in this curious anomaly of pc? J. XX 312 JUDITH'S GARDEN genders; and a better, more cheerful singer I have never known. Nancy is so tame now, that I sometimes leave the cage door open and allow him to flit joyfully among the flowers. When Max comes home at night he finds me in the greenhouse. I can only quote Scripture : — "Where the treasure is, there is the heart." Sometimes I am kneel- ing before a pile of good dirt, pot- ting plants ; sometimes I am snipping off dead leaves ; sometimes I am just lingering round to watch my green babies grow. Max is getting a little interested himself ; for only yesterday he asked me the name of a plant. I have a still more interested vis- itor to my greenhouse, — an old, old man. His name is Mr. Pegleg ; and, 'Xi^ y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 313 Would you believe it? Fate, not un- kind enough in the choice of a name, has robbed him of a leg. He wears a wooden stump ; and really it goes against me to call him Mr. Pegleg; but what can I do, when that is his name? Max has no cause to be jealous of Mr. Pegleg's attention to me, for he is eighty at the least. I presume he will die soon, and I hope when my time comes I may be as resigned as he appears to be. Seated in a comfortable chair among the flowers, watching me work, he often airs his views upon immortality. " There is no death," said he yes- terday, his serene old face lighting up, " it is only transition ; just a little pushing upward, niy dear, into more 3H JUDITH'S GARDEN life and sunshine, like that plant yon- der. You love the flowers here; what will you think of them over there? If I go first, daughter, I will plant you a great bed of violets. It shall be all in bloom when you come." I was just then repotting a hardy green primrose. As I bent over it, its wholesome, healthy perfume came up to me. It seemed to whisper of this good earth and all the beauty therein. "Mr. Pegleg," I said, patting the soil about the primrose, then dust- ing my fingers, "you need not take the trouble to plant me that violet bed ; because, well — you see, I should have to die to behold it; and I am not ready to leave this life for ^1 JUDITH'S GARDEN 315 a long, long time yet. The flowers in this world are good enough for me — quite good enough." Then I dug up another hardy green prim- rose and repotted that; while Nancy, beginning with soft, low trills and little gurgling warbles, lifted up his voice and sang as if one little body could not hold his love and praise for all creation. Mr. Pegleg may have thought me a heathen, but he did not say so; he just sat nodding in the sunshine until I knew he was fast asleep, then I carefully pinned a newspaper about his head to keep off the heat, and left him, going down to the other end of the greenhouse to train vines. ,3!, -^.w ;o' 7V / BUT ORCHIDS XXIII ^^ / SUPPOSE I have done something very wrong, but when I think of that polite, insinuating florist, I feel that he is more to blame than I am. It happened in this way : I was down town, and it occurred to me to step into Gerome & Co.'s, florists ; not that I intended to buy anything, for how can one buy without money? I had no sooner set my foot across the threshold than Mr. Gerome him- 316 V^l ~v\ ')W(o y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 1^7 self beckoned to me. " I have been hoping that you would drop in," he said, oh, so politely ! " There is some- thing I particularly wish to show you ; " then he led me into one of the greenhouses and pointed to a lot of plants growing in little wooden baskets. " Orchids ! " I exclaimed. " Yes, and so easy to grow. These are beautiful plants; they are just what you need to finish your green- house. I had you in mind when I ordered them." " Are they not very expensive 1 " I asked. " Oh, well, not so very," and he named a price that really shocked me. I knew if I lingered I should be 3i8 JUDITH'S GARDEN lost, for he is so persuasive. I said, " I am in a great hurry this morning ; I will call again." I went home, but Fate pursued me. On the hall table I found a letter from Aunt Matilda, and out of it dropped a check — her Christmas gift. I love my aunt dearly, but her letter made me weep. Why must she always have a string tied to my pleas- ures } She wrote I was to spend this money for necessary articles, things that I most needed. By turn- ing and twisting in every direction, I could not get the consent of my own conscience that orchids in wooden baskets came under the head of necessary articles. That night I dreamed of seeing J^fJ^/A JUDITH'S GARDEN 319 7V long rows of these same wooden bas- kets suspended from the greenhouse roof, and in them such strange and splendid blooms that I was half wild with delight. When I awoke it was four o'clock in the morning, — a good hour for thinking. My brain was more than usually luminous, and soon a great idea came to me. Aunt Matilda had written I was to spend the money for necessary things. Now what are necessary things.? Why, food to be sure, — meat, potatoes, and vegetables. What in the world was to hinder my taking Aunt Ma- tilda's check and devoting it to buying food for the family, then appropriating to my own use the house money set aside for that pur- pose } My poor conscience nudged llii:^ 320 JUDITH'S GARDEN me a little at this decision, but I was callous. Such a feeling of relief as swept over me ! I fell asleep, but woke again at six. I shook Max. "Let's get up," I said. " What for } " he inquired sleepily. " I'm in a great hurry to go down town." " But it is dark yet." "Oh, well, it will be light soon;" and I hurried out of bed and was dressed and downstairs before Rhoda. At precisely eight o'clock I stepped inside of Gerome & Co.'s store. I had decided to buy just one orchid, to try it; but when I came to look at them, I could not make up my mind as to the one I wanted; then that Mr. Gerome happened along. M \i/X.< JUDITH'S GARDEN 321 and — well, you know how it ended: I took the whole lot. That afternoon I wrote to Aunt Matilda. " My dear Aunt," I said : " Thank you for sending me such a liberal check. The money shall go as you say, for necessary articles. We need food every day; how else could we live ? This very morning I bought with it a fine young turkey, and to- morrow I shall procure a brace of ducks. We are all well. I have a greenhouse, built for me by my thoughtful husband. I am fast get- ting it filled with plants. " Do not worry about me, but if you should happen to hear of a new speci- men of flowers, do, oh, do ! dear Aunt XI r ^' 322 JUDITH'S GARDEN Matilda, write at once to me. Give its common name and also its botan- ical name, so that I may make no mis- take in procuring it. " You ask in your letter what I in- tend giving my husband for Christ- mas? I have already planned to surprise him with a fine palm and a Boston fern. "Thanking you again, dear Aunt, I am your loving niece, " Judith." I think that was a very good letter. I should hate to deceive my aunt. I confess, her reply hurt me a little. " My dear Niece," it ran : " Can it be possible that you were obliged to spend for food the money I sent you ? JUDITH'S GARDEN 3-23 Has your husband failed ? Your let- ter so worried me that I fell into a nervous chill. " Oh, my dear brother's only child ! tell, tell your own aunt, — do you suffer ? Are you stinted for food ? If I do not hear from you at once, I shall be obliged to visit you in order to probe this state of affairs. I am not well, and a journey in winter is hard for me. Write at once and tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth. , " Your loving "Aunt Matilda. " P. S. I send you by express, to- day, a box containing clothing." -Vi I did not dare to show this letter to Max. I answered it the best I ^ ^1 324 JUDITH'S GARDEN could, telling Aunt Matilda our embarrassment was but temporary, and that she had not the slightest cause to worry. How could I tell her about the orchids ? The box arrived in due time, and I opened it to find my thoughtful aunt had sent me a fine broadcloth gown, a winter hat, and a dream of a sacque. This sacque is a mouse grey with three little capes to it, em- broidered in low-toned violets. It is marked Paris. My aunt has good taste. I dressed up in my new finery to please Max, but he said : — " I love you best in your old green gown — little Judith Greenslip." Now, you see, I have all that I need, and the orchids besides. How ^' JUDITH'S GARDEN 32s \u\ great a thing is trust! "Cast your bread upon the waters," says the Scriptures. I say, to you who would be growers of green things, sow your bonnets and gowns and sacques. If needs be, go a little shabby, for you are investing in happiness. There is nothing like it on earth, — this grow- ing close to nature's heart. Mr. Pegleg helped me to put up the orchids. He held them while I mounted the step-ladder and hung the baskets, suspended by a string to stout little hooks. His serene old face beamed with happiness at my delight. I love that old man. Last night, when Max and I were sitting alone, I suddenly said, " Dear, I intend to study the birds next year in connection with my garden." V) r y\ RECEIVE MY REWARD XXIV HIS morning, as I was reading a letter from Pat, Rhoda came to tell me there was a gentleman in the parlour wishing to see me. "Let him wait," I said, in an absent manner; for my whole mind was set upon deciphering my gardener's chi- rography. At last I made it out : — " Honoured Missus," it ran : " I sind ye an ox-alice which I raised in me south windy. Put it in some nate .^JT -3' y\ 328 JUDITWS GARDEN dirt wid good leakage, an' let the sun galoop roond it all day long. Soon 'twill blossum grand an' be a soight to faste yer eyes. " This is a long winther. I've had a tooch o' rheumatiz from over-atein'. I begged Bridget not to put so much grease in the poy-crust, but she says it can't be hilped. The cook-book says tak' so much o' this an' so much o' that. Bedad, I've almost lost me religun along o' that cook-book ! " I've bin over to the place several toimes, an' do say it, things look as safe and snug as a silver saxpence in a Scotchman's pocket. " Hoping, honoured missus, this may find ye well, and God bliss ye ! I am yer faithful servant, " Patrick Monahan." ^\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 329 A good letter, and such a hardy, healthy oxalis ! I ran into the green- house and thrust the plant into a bench of dirt. By and by I would \ pot it and set it in the sunniest spot I could find. When it blossomed forth like some dainty lady, all in pink, it could but remind me of the kindest little old Irisljman alive. Suddenly I thought of the gentle- man in the parlour. I truly hoped it were not a florist, because I am so easily persuaded, and I could not see that I needed more in my green- house. However, as I had kept him waiting several minutes, I hastened to make myself presentable, and open- ing the door, encountered Mr. Tom Norton, home from Europe. It gave me quite a shock to behold y^ r! -Y\ 33° JUDITH'S GARDEN him. I felt like running to put my arms around my dear earthly para- dise, and crying out, "Oh, you can- not, you must not, claim it ! " He responded to my greeting in a 'CPX most cordial manner. " Well," he asked a little later, " how did your garden grow.? Were you troubled with bugs 1 " " Oh, yes," I said solemnly, for an inward hope suddenly possessed me that I might so multiply those insects as to completely discourage Mr. Norton. " I feared so," he said mournfully. "How I pitied you last summer! Of course those poor rose bushes were 1 ^jj^. infested ? " " Yes," I replied, " and the sweet peas, the nasturtiums, and the golden ^^ JUDITH'S GARDEN 331 glows. There were all kinds and conditions of bugs in that garden, but — " " Do I not know ?" he broke in. " I often told Mrs. Norton I feared I had not done my duty in explaining to you the difficulties of gardening." Should I allow him to go on in this way, believing in my failure when success had crowned my every effort ? I could not ; I dared not. " Mr. Norton," I said briskly, " you did not allow me to finish my sen- tence. I was about to tell you that I killed those bugs, every one. There are plenty of poisons, and I was ener- getic. I found that garden the sweet- est, dearest spot on earth ; and oh ! you ought to have seen my roses growing on your bushes -^ such a ^\ 332 JUDITH'S GARDEN glorious sight ! Your ice-house was all covered with morning-glories. There was a bed of yellow stock flaming out from the row of pine trees, and a hedge of hollyhocks along the wall. The sweet peas blossomed until autumn, and the golden glows and the pink and red dahlias. There were hosts and hosts of flowers. Of course, had you known all this, you would never have gone away, and I should have missed the happiest summer of my life. " Now that you have come back, I must tell you that I have improved the garden. You will find the spring all gay with daffodils and irises and forget-me-nots, growing along the banks to the brook. I have planted a hedge of Madonna lilies, which I y\ JUDITH'S GARDEN 333 am sure you will like, and some rose peonies on the lawn. You will find a fine tulip and also a hyacinth bed to welcome you home. Max expostu- lated with me for setting out all these things; but I told him I felt sure you would not object, and it was such a pleasure to me. I — I am afraid I sometimes forgot the garden was not my own." Mr. Norton had risen and was look- ing at me — very kindly, I' thought. " I am not sure," he said, " but the garden is more yours than mine." "Why?" I asked. " Because you found joy in it, while I found nothing but bugs and discontent. I never saw it with your eyes. How could I dream that it was so beautiful 1 " 334 JUDITH'S GARDEN He went away smiling, and a lit- tle sad feeling settled around my heart. I should have wept, I believe, but for Mr. Pegleg. I found him in the greenhouse waiting for me. He was admiring a great American Beauty rose that had blossomed out that morning. " Oh, how exquisite ! " he said. " Isn't it!" I cried. Then Mr. Peg- leg and I fell to adoring that rose exactly like a couple of Persians. First he smelled it, then I smelled it. We even tried to count the crumpled petals. We admired its long stout stalk and fresh green leaves. Mr. Pegleg felt sure it was the finest rose that ever grew, but I remembered a larger one in my gar- den — no, Tom Norton's garden — JUDITH'S GARDEN 335 and demurred. At last, to convince him, I measured it. " Not quite so large," I said, "but it does very well for an indoor rose " ; then I took the big shears and cut it off. " Oh," sighed Mr. Pegleg. " There is another bud to bloom to-morrow," I said. " I shall lose nothing. I hear your niece is ill. Perhaps when she beholds such a perfect construction of health and beauty, it may help her to get well." " It ought to," said Mr. Pegleg. " How her eyes will brighten when she sees it! I call it one of God's kindly expressions." He took the rose and hobbled out of the back door. Nancy began to sing. I found a jar and planted my oxalis. How could I feel very un- y\ 336 JUDITH'S GARDEN happy when the sun was shining in among the green vines and growing plants ? Here at last was a spot all my own, and plenty of work to do. I went about that work. The hours slipped by, and I was surprised to hear Max's step. " Are you there ? " he called. " Yes," I answered cheerfully. He came down the steps, look- ing very important. I saw he had news to tell. "Well.?" I said. " Judith Greenslip," he remarked solemnly, "you were born for luck." " Has some one sent me a plant 1 " I asked. " Better than that. Tell me, how did you manage to persuade Tom Norton this morning? He came V^l 11 liif 1' n i I !ii : ^iii wmim