ILftG MMER kWOOING R ~ . :Y E STONE BASSET; 415E B. AN. Vw Bergen ...BOOKS... Carbondale - Penna. (7 - CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES I don't sec how jone can be without a garden and morning glories M1D 6 UMMBR WO OIMG JBOSTQM LOTHROP, LEE & SHEF&RD CO. COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY <* LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ^ Publishid, 1913 Norwood Prttt Btrwck 6- Smith Co. Norwood, Afau., U.S.A. . "A garden is a beautiful book writ by the finger of God: Every flower and every leaf is a letter." 2125554 HA T to a man who loves the air Are trinkets, gauds ; and jewels rare? And what is wealth or fame to one Who is a brother to the sun Who drinks the wine that morning spills Upon the heaven-kissing hills, And sees a ray of hope afar In every glimmer of a start " IF course I do not expect the per- son who dislikes gardens should there be such a person in the world to read this tale. Being a plant-loving, seed- sowing woman, I have glorified my garden, made it a spot of earth peculiarly dear to me. However, I have not forgotten romance. How could I with Priscilla Brown for a neighbour and a fine plant-loving young man for a visitor? Then the summer-house just built for two: vu Introduction so cosy and so clambered over by scarlet creepers. Come and sit in it while I tell you the story. THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VH. IX. X. XI. XII. GET THYSELF A GARDEN AND HAPPINESS I MOVE INTO MY EARTHLY PARADISE . OUR VIOLET DINNER .... SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN .... A SUGGESTION FOR A SUMMER - HOUSE SWEET PRISCILLA ..... THE OLD - FASHIONED GARDEN WE INSPECT MR. BROWN'S " FAILURES " AN ARGUMENT BETWEEN HUSBAND AND WIFE . . . ..... 140 THE ARRIVAL OF Miss SPRANGLEBSRRY 151 A VISIT FROM MY IRISH NEIGHBOUR . 163 MR. SIMMONS AND I SOLVE A PROBLEM . 174 I PURCHASE A PATENT BUG - EXTER- MINATOR ....... 192 ix PACE 13 38 47 67 77 89 97 "3 Contents uCutX' CHAPTER PAGE XIV. MR. PEGLEG COMES TO VISIT ME . 217 \ XV. MY AUNT'S DREAM .... 232 ^ XVI. THE HAUNTED ROSE GARDEN . 248 ^~*+^ xvn. MR. PEGLEG'S SWEETHEART LEADS Wl HIM HOME 269 >~ 3 Cg xvm. I SEND GIFTS TO THE MISSES LARK 284 7S xrx. A GARDEN CONFESSION 298 XX. MAX TAKES A VACATION . 313 X XXI. THE CAMP BY THE LAKE . 329 ( XXII. MR. BROWN EXPERIMENTS WITH His / AIR - SHIP 348 ( XXIII. I AM THANKFUL FOR A CIRCUS 366 /-I r w XXIV. I FALL ASLEEP AND REGRET IT 391 ) if XXV. THE PROPOSAL IN MY SUMMER- PL HOUSE 407 5 XXVI. MR. BROWN Is DISSATISFIED . 426 W< XXVII. A DISAPPOINTMENT THAT PROVED A Aj BLESSING 429 w xxvni. I POSSESS A SUN -DIAL . 437 fl XXLX. MAX AND I, AND THE SUMMER- , l HOUSE 448 m XXX. I SURPRISE MR. SPEAR 455 .-. XXXI. GOOD ADVICE IN REGARD TO COOKS 469 TO XXXII. THEIR WEDDING DAY 481 M ILL USTRATIONS I don't see how one can live without a garden and morning-glories (Page 368) Frontispiece FACING PACE "I see I see flowers in your pathway " . 54 " Country life is so dull for a young man, and I find he must be entertained " . . 196 The early-rising moon made a path of glory for them 424 GET THYSELF A GARDEN AND HAPPINESS I Y first purchase this spring was a bottle of tonic for my cook. I imagined she looked pale; but Max said, " How can Rhoda look pale when she is as black as the ace of spades ? " " Well, then, she looks sort of fagged," I persisted. I had some difficulty in adminis- tering the doses, for Rhoda is not fond of medicine; but I put it to her in this way : " If you fall sick I 13 14 A Midsummer Wooing shall starve, and that means a great deal to me." After such a remark, I would pour out a big spoonful of the tonic and poor Rhoda would swal- low it with a horrible grimace. "Jes* to please yer, Honey," she said. You see, I love my cook, and if I do not take medicine myself I am willing to give it to others. Why should I take medicine? When I need a tonic I go out and listen to a bluebird singing, or to the merry " cheep " of a robin. No, indeed ; when I want to take medicine and die, it shall be in the dead of winter and not in the glorious waking time of the year. The other morning, as I was put- ting away the tonic bottle, Mrs. Webster, my next-door neighbour, A Midsummer Wooing 15 dropped in upon me. I love her, although she is a Christian Scien- tist and I am a gardener. She is the merriest soul alive; but to-day she took me to task for dosing Rhoda. She followed me into the greenhouse, lecturing all the time. I kept right on watering plants and searching for stray bugs. When she had apparently exhausted her- self, I said : " I don't take medicine, because I am one of Nature's children, and my old mother isn't fond of sick things. She wants her trees, her plants, and her animals to be strong and sleek, so I heed well her wise counsels. You don't take medicine, because you say you have discov- ered a higher law that, when obeyed, makes you strong and happy; but Rhoda is like neither 16 A Midsummer Wooing of us; she is a Methodist, and Meth- odists always take medicine." " Sho! " she exclaimed. I was bending over a pink azalea, a perfect bouquet of bloom. " That plant didn't need medi- cine," she said, presently. " It got a tonic," I persisted, " bone-dust and other things. If you will not scold any more, I will give it to you ; " and I proceeded to wrap the plant in stout paper. She went off perfectly delighted with the azalea, but still strong in her faith. At precisely twelve o'clock I gave Rhoda another spoonful of the tonic; then sat down to wait for my luncheon. We all need strength to cook. When Max came home at night and told me he had made the first A Midsummer Wooing 17 payment on Tom Norton's place, and now it was really ours for Mr. Norton couldn't possibly back out I was so vaingloriously happy that I knocked over a vase I dislike, and broke it. I really didn't mean to break that vase, it just happened so: yet I have always been very fortunate in getting rid of things I dislike. I remember once having a bonnet I hated. It cost me so much that I felt obliged to wear it; but one night I forgot and left it on a bench in the garden. A fearful storm arose, and next morning, when I went to look for my bonnet, why, you wouldn't have known it was a bonnet. I bore that loss with great resignation. Again, I owned a cape (a gift from my Aunt Matilda). It was an 18 A Midsummer Wooing ugly shade of gray so unbecom- ing! but who can spurn a gift? Duty compelled me to wear it, but luck, as usual, was with me. The first time I took a boat ride that sea- son, a gust of wind snatched the cape from my shoulders and blew it into the lake. I never recovered it. I wrote to Aunt Matilda of my loss, suggesting that if she were to send a red cape ntxt time, the wind might not blow so hard. There are few women who admit the truth. Even my best friend would have endured the vase in si- lence; but I, well, it was such an ugly vase yellow, with green stripes running round it. A mis- sionary gave it to me, he brought it from China. I had spent hours trying to make it fit into some ob- scure corner; but it wouldn't. It A Midsummer Wooing 19 always provoked me and set me against missionaries the moment I entered the room " jarred on my nerves," I told Max. He laughed and said it was a jar; yet he was quite put out when I ac- cidentally broke it. " Judith," he exclaimed, " you are the most wasteful creature alive. You've smashed a good vase." " I don't care," I said serenely, " I have always disliked it. If more women would get rid of the things they dislike, they would be hap- pier." "Heavens!" exclaimed Max; " you might get to feeling that way towards me." "I could not," I returned; "for you know, Max, I really admire you." Max looked foolish, yet he likes 20 A Midsummer Wooing a little praise. I find I can rule him better this way than by frowns and scolding; and that reminds me of a story. A little old Irishman was walking along our streets one day, smoking a clay pipe. At a corner he knocked the ashes from his pipe and boarded a passing car. There was one seat vacant beside a finely dressed lady. Pat proceeded to take it and make himself as small as possible. He hid the vile-smelling pipe be- neath his knotty fingers; but the lady was ill-tempered her face was sour and gloomy. When a sudden jolt knocked the unfortu- nate Irishman against her, she said scornfully: " If I were your wife, I would mix you a dose of poison! " Pat looked at her and replied A Midsummer Wooing 21 meekly : " If ye war me wife, mum, shure, I'd be willing to take it." I am inclined to think some men feel like taking poison, much as I dislike to admit it. Of course, what belongs to Max, I claim as mine, also. In this case I was doubly happy: for it seemed I was only coming into my own. Virtually, Tom Norton's place be- longed to me last summer. Did I not make his rose-bushes bear my roses? I thought of the tulip and hyacinth beds and the Madonna lilies which I had so trustfully planted; the rose peonies upon which I had squandered my money. Had I been a selfish, miserly crea- ture, I would not have spent this money to adorn another's garden. Had I listened to Max, where now would be this wealth of beauty that 22 A Midsummer Wooing will surely welcome me home? I have decided in my own mind, that a man is not competent to judge of a woman's flower garden. " I suppose," said Max, after he had recovered from the loss of the vase, " you will be wanting to move out soon. Will you go in a large wagon with a double row of flower- pots on each side of you, or will you be wise and leave the products of your greenhouse behind?" " Leave my plants to wither and die ! " I exclaimed, indignantly. " No, indeed, but you need not ride in the wagon, dear. In truth, there wouldn't be room for you." " I should hope not," said Max. His suggestion about the wagon really pleased me. The very next day I went to see Mr. Banbury, a liveryman, and engaged of him A Midsummer Wooing 23 what he called his " democrat." One fine morning, about the last of April, we started forth. I had the back of the box to the " democrat " well packed with flower-pots; and I put a lot in front, for Mr. Banbury said he could just as well hang his feet out- side, so I let him. Then I set a big fuchsia on the seat between us and about the dashboard I fastened a tape and tied some of my orchid baskets to it. When I got in I had Mr. Banbury hand me a large hy- drangea and two or three smaller pots: and, as he was so good-na- tured, I made Rhoda fetch a patent thing that Max hangs his coats on. This we put over Mr. Banbury's shoulders and fastened to it two large hanging baskets. As they hung down his back, he said they 24 A Midsummer Wooing wouldn't interfere with his driving and I knew we ought to take them, and could think of no other way. When we started I was glad Max was not at home. He has such peculiar notions about appearances ; but, as I had done nothing to be ashamed of, and people know I am fond of flowers, I held up my head and looked as unconcerned as if riding in a barouche. I found Mr. Banbury a very pleasant companion. He said he was raised in the country; and got to telling me all about his father's place: how many cows they kept and how many horses. He said he used to work in a garden, but he hated it, for he always wanted to get into town and own a livery stable. " And now that you have your A Midsummer Wooing 25 wish," I remarked, " of course you are very happy? " " Oh, about so-so ! " drawled Mr. Banbury; " 'tain't all I expected; for you know as we git older things don't seem the same. I often wish I was back in that garden." He sighed. I should have tried to comfort him, but just then we heard a noise, and looking back, I saw a fat woman standing in the middle of the road waving a mop at us. She had run out of a little house by the wayside. Mr. Banbury said he didn't be- lieve she wanted much and was for driving on, but I said no, we had better wait. She came up with us at last still waving her mop. She was very much out of breath. n -SW !$r 26 A Midsummer Wooing " Shure, how mooch air thim flowers? " she gasped. " I'd loike a geranium; a red one, plaze." Mr. Banbury was about to ex- plain, but I nudged him. I was determined the poor soul should be pleased. I set the hydrangea on Mr. Banbury's knee and climbed down over the wheel. "What one will you have?" I asked. " I loikes that un," she replied, pointing to a vivid scarlet bloom. I set it out. " Won't you take another?" I inquired. " Shure I wu'd ; but what may be the price o' 'em?" '* They're cheap to-day," I said ; and set out four more pots. She fumbled in the pocket of her calico gown and fished out a dime. " Thot's all I hev," she said. A Midsummer Wooing 27 "Is it?" I replied, waving back the money. " Well, take them all and pay me some other time." She went off carrying the pre- cious geraniums, and we drove on: but presently I looked back and saw that she had forgotten her mop. It was lying in the middle of the road. Mr. Banbury said she couldn't carry it on account of the gerani- ums and would come back for it; but I thought differently. " It is a good mop," I said, " and it might get run over. I shall carry it back to her," and in spite of his saying that the horses wouldn't stand, I set down my hydrangea again and crawled out over the wheel. I was gone longer than I ex- pected, for Mrs. Sullivan needed me to tell her just how to set out those geraniums, and then I gave her K S\ 28 A Midsummer Wooing some good advice about a flower bed she intended planting. I don't think Mr. Banbury liked it, for he looked cross. However, I paid no attention. I have learned that to pay no attention to people's ill- humour is a very good way not to fall angry yourself. Presently we reached our gate, and there stood Pat, my gardener, ready to welcome me. I wish I could tell you just how a little old Irishman's face looks when he is pleased. It was all " smily," and yet there was reserve in it a sort of natural dignity which always marks a boundary line between Pat and me. He never can forget that I am " the boss," as he calls it. " Here I am, Pat," I cried joy- fully. A Midsummer Wooing 29 " I'm plazed to see ye, mum," he replied. I handed him the hydrangea, then allowed him to help me down. Together, we fell to work unload- ing Mr. Banbury's wagon; and that person drove off not ill pleased, I thought. Here was a whole day in the country with no one to bother me. This sounds rather heartless; but you know there are times when one likes to be alone. After telling Pat where to put our precious plants, in the house and about the piazza, I ran down the garden path to the spring. Sure enough, the daffodils I had planted were in bloom, waving their silken yellow petals in the brisk wind. Who could wish a lovelier sight than these beauties huddling about 30 A Midsummer Wooing that little crystal basin! They seemed like pure sunshine. The ferns were not all unfolded yet; but the few that were looked so lacy, so freshly green, making such a charming background, that I felt like saying to myself: " ' Well done, thou good and faithful servant ' ; now enjoy thy work." I sat down upon a bench lost in admiration. Presently a blue- bird happened near. I caught the bright gleam of his back as he darted past me and perched upon a young maple. He began to sing: a delicious, rollicking song, so full of good cheer and pleasant faith, that I felt like giving him an encore. In listening, I forgot all about time and all about trouble : not that I have much trouble, unless, one can count on what is borrowed: and A Midsummer Wooing 31 why, I ask, should I borrow what I do not want and little need? If all women would remember this, they would enjoy themselves better. I could not help thinking as I sat there that life is a good thing, no matter how much some people de- cry it. I determined to live as long as possible, and the only thing that worried me was the leaving of life. I half wished I had helped to make the world, for I should have been just as kind to man as God is to nature. That probably old tree yonder, was it not putting forth a perfect miracle of fresh foliage literally renewing itself? Why, then, should not a bald-headed man have a new growth of hair? This growing old, who likes it? Not I. The more I look into nature, the younger I feel. My spirit, at least, 32 A Midsummer Wooing shall renew itself each coming year. From where I sat, I could see a little graveyard on the hillside, its white stones glistening in the sun- shine. It was a quiet, peaceful spot, where, later on, wild roses would bloom and the long grass wave above the quiet sleepers. But it was not life: the glad pulsing life that rushes from the heart to redden the cheek: that makes the bluebird sparkle and glisten in the sun filling his soft throat with joy. Oh, no, it was something I shrank from; yet knew I must one embrace. I turned my eyes quickly from the spot and rested them upon the daffodils. Had I not dug every hole in the black earth and buried the bulbs myself? They slept, to A Midsummer Wooing 33 arise in beauty. Perhaps, I thought, so is death; we shall arise clothed in beauty. I did not pick one of the flowers, because they looked so glad to be living. Now put yourself in my place this gay spring morning. Supposing that there was nothing in the world that you so delighted in as a gar- den? That you dreamed of a gar- den and talked of a garden, until it was your one hobby to mount and ride upon all occasions. Then, sup- posing a fairy prince should give you a great garden, to do with just as you pleased? I imagine you would feel rather " set up," as the English have it. Now Max is my fairy prince, and Tom Norton's garden is mine. I can do as I like in it; dig and plant to my heart's content. Poor Max 34 A Midsummer Wooing does not know a hyacinth from a larkspur and little cares which is which; but he delights in my hap- piness, and the garden, though not a paradise to him, is still the spot where his sole desire dwells my- self. I was not thinking of him when he drove out for me that night. In truth, he hunted around a good bit before he found me. I was over in the south swamp looking at a bed of muck which Pat thought would make " foine dirt": and I wanted some of it for an old-fashioned garden. Max had to wait an hour or more before I appeared. He was quite vexed. " Judith," he exclaimed, " you've been traipsing around again. I have hunted and waited for you until I A Midsummer Wooing 35 have lost all patience. Where have you been? " " Why, over in the south swamp, dear; and, Max, I saw a phoebe. The black-headed darling was in the lowest branch of a big basswood calling in the sweetest way. I hunted around for his mate, but I imagine she has not yet come north ; then I discovered a whole colony of hepaticas, as blue as heaven! and after that, the sunset was incom- parable." "And you watched it as long as you dared ? " said Max. "Just as long as I dared, dear," I replied, "but now I am ready to go home." " I should hope so," he said, dryly. I love my husband, but I wish, oh, how I wish he did take a little v; ^f <- 36 A Midsummer Wooing more interest in gardens. I talked to him about our garden all the way home; and I really hoped he would say: "Judith, I will double your allowance so that you may buy all the seeds and plants you desire." He said nothing of the sort; this is what he did say: ' Judith, I want to give you fair warning; if you spend all your al- lowance for seeds and plants as you did last summer, you will have to go without things." I made no reply; for just then I was mentally calculating how many plants, how many nasturtiums, sweet-pea seeds and other things I could get out of a month's allow- ance. I believe he thought I felt hurt, for he took my hand and peered under my broad - brimmed hat. A Midsummer Wooing ' What's the matter, little Judith Greenslip?" he inquired. " Matter enough," I said brusquely: "I've got to do all my calculating over again. You've put me out." / MOVE INTO MY EARTHLY PARADISE II lEXT morning Mr. Banbury was on hand again, in spite of his ill- temper of the day before. As we were moving out for good, this time Rhoda accompanied me; bearing in her arms the gilded cage holding my precious Nancy. The remainder of the plants we bestowed in the box of the "democrat"; then I turned the key in the door of my winter abode and set out with a light heart for my Earthly Paradise. A Midsummer Wooing 39 Mr. Pegleg my esteemed friend came to bid me good-by. The poor old man looked sad, but brightened when I told him he must surely visit me for a whole month. I left him in charge of a large begonia, as I knew it would please him to think he was doing something for me. Mr. Pegleg's body is long past eighty, but his spirit remains young and delightfully attractive. His religion astonishes me. He be- lieves that the stars are other worlds in which spirits dwell. He also thinks our good things here will continue right on in the next life: say, if one loves a garden on this planet, why, a garden over there. I cling to this idea; for I would so much rather bear a trowel than a harp. He declares we can- 40 A Midsummer Wooing not afford to be cross or difficult here, lest it affect the characters we are building for eternity; and he has bade me always to meet resent- ment with mildness. I should try to oblige him, but for a very incon- venient temper. Isn't it strange one should have so much of a thing he does not want? I assure you Mr. Pegleg lives up to his relig- ion. I had found I could spare Mrs. Sullivan (the woman with the mop) a fern; so when we came opposite her house I climbed out and took it to her. She was much pleased and would have me stay while she boiled me an egg. I felt on pins and needles, know- ing Mr. Banbury's uncertain tem- per, but what can one do when a A Midsummer Wooing 41 nice Irishwoman is bent on show- ing you a courtesy? She said she would run to the barn and get the egg from under a hen. I told her " No, no ! " but she said ' Yis, yis ! " so I had to wait. In the room was a very old woman in a white cap that frilled out from her face like a large sun- flower. She was peacefully smo- king a pipe. " Pwhat's yer hurry?" she in- quired. " Mr. Banbury is waiting," I ex- plained. " Is it Ben Banbury ye mane, pwhat kapes a livery? Arrah, lave him wait! Shure, 'tis better plazed he'll be a-settin' than a-joggin'. Didn't I work for his faither's fam- bly years agone ! A lazier b'y never 42 A Midsummer Wooing lived. Shure, he'd as soon tak' a dose o' pison an' die, as to hoe a hill o' beans. Arrah, lave him wait ; he'll charge it in the bill." She looked dreadfully wise, and just then Mrs. Sullivan appeared with the egg. Passing me, she whispered : "Me mither's ould, but she is awfu' cun- ning!" I had respect for that ancient dame's judgment when Mr. Ban- bury presented his bill. As it was to get away I told Mrs. Sullivan I liked my egg just turned, and in consequence was obliged to eat it nearly raw and to drink a " cup o' tay " that scalded all the way down. When at last I appeared and climbed into the wagon, I really felt guilty; for Mr. Banbury's face A Midsummer Wooing 43 expressed his perturbed spirit. He struck the off horse a savage blow. I felt a righteous indignation. " Mr. Banbury," I said, " because you are angry with me, there is no need that you should strike your horse. I have seen men before, who vented their temper in this way and I have small respect for them. A horse is one of God's chil- dren and a willing servant to man. He has a right to good treatment." Mr. Banbury flecked the heads of the wayside weeds with his whip; I still looked him straight in the face, remembering Mr. Pegleg's re- ligion, to be earnest but not severe. " I s'pose I ought not ter," he said at last; "but I guess thar's pure cussedness in a man. You git him the least bit riled an' he's got to take it out on somethin'. I love 44 A Midsummer Wooing bosses as well as any one, but I sometimes lick 'em when they ain't done nothin'. Don't know what makes me, 'less it's pure cussed- ness." I made no reply, for I saw Mr. Banbury's conscience was working and I didn't wish to interrupt it. " I s'pose," he remarked at last, " you wouldn't hit a hoss under no circumstances? " " I shouldn't hit one that had not offended me," I replied. " S'pose not, s'pose not," he re- marked; then he reached down into his pocket and drew up a tar- nished silver tobacco-box, from which he extracted, as a comforting conclusion, a generous chew. The rest of our journey was passed in silence save for Nancy, who gave several cheerful chirps A Midsummer Wooing 45 from her draped cage, as much as to say, " I'm still alive." As Pat was not around, Mr. Ban- bury helped me to unload the plants. When about to leave, he said: " I tell you what I'll do, Mrs. Elliot, I'll give that hoss an extra feed of oats when I git home, that'll make it up to him; and I won't lick him agin when 'tain't neces- sary." What more could the poor man say? I encouraged him, shook him by the hand and bade him a cheer- ful good-by. When Rhoda and I ran into the house we threw open the doors and windows to let in the blessed coun- try sunshine. We hung Nancy's cage in a sunny spot and Rhoda went to inspect the kitchen. " 'Clar' to goodness, Honey," she A Midsummer Wooing exclaimed, " it do seem good to git whar yo' can snuff all de fresh air yo' like. Tse gwine straight to de gayrden to see if de mint-bed's sprung." OUR VIOLET DINNER III rv OME people dis- like April, but I see no reason for it. Does she not whisper to all tnTE5weF