windows. There was an ominous display of
silver on the sideboard, and the enlargement of the table had been on an
extensive scale.

"If she has spoiled Janet's evening in the garden, by inviting a lot of
stupids, it will be too bad," whispered Rose.

It was not so bad as that, however. Of the guests whose visits were to
be "put over," on this occasion, only Mr Proudfute, a very pleasant,
harmless gentleman, and Fanny's old admirer, Captain Starr, came. As to
making it a state affair, and sitting two or three hours at table, such
a thing was not to be thought of. Mr Snow could eat his dinner even in
the most unfavourable circumstances, in a tenth part of that time, and
so could Mr Green, for that matter; so within a reasonable period, the
ladies found themselves, not in the drawing-room, but on the lawn, and
the gentlemen soon followed.

It was the perfection of a summer evening, with neither dust nor insects
to be a drawback, with just wind enough to make tremulous the shadows on
the lawn, and to waft, from the garden above the house, the odours of a
thousand flowers. The garden itself did not surpass, or even equal, in
beauty of arrangement, many of the gardens of the neighbourhood; but it
was very beautiful in the unaccustomed eyes of Mr and Mrs Snow, and it
was with their eyes that Graeme looked at it to-night. They left the
others on the lawn, the gentlemen--some of them at least--smoking in the
shade of the great cedar, and Rose and Fanny making wreaths of the roses
the children were gathering for them. The garden proper was behind the
house, and thither they bent their steps, Graeme inwardly congratulating
herself that she and Will were to have the pointing out of its beauties
to the friends all to themselves. They did not need to be pointed out
to the keen, admiring eyes of Mr Snow. Nothing escaped him, as he
walked slowly before them, looking over his shoulder now and then, to
remark on something that particularly interested him. Mrs Snow's
gentle exclamations alone broke the silence for some time. She lingered
with an interest, which to Graeme was quite pathetic, over flowers
familiar in her childhood, but strangers to her for many a year.

"It minds me of the Ebba Gardens," said she, after a little. "Not that
it is like them, except for the flowers. The Ebba Gardens were on a
level, not in terraces like this. You winna mind the Ebba Gardens, Miss
Graeme."

They had reached by this time a su