ved garden. For long moments she
bent over the gray-green, white-starred bed of cinnamon pinks which
sent up an Arabian fragrance into her face as she carefully threaded
out each little weed that had dared rear its head among the white
blossoms. As she walked between the rows the tall lilies laid their
heads against her breast and kissed traces of their gold hearts on her
hands and bare arms, while on the other side a very riot of blush
peonies crowded against her skirts. Long trails of pod-laden snap
beans tangled around her feet and a couple of round young squashes
rolled from their stems at the touch of her fingers. She was the very
incarnation of young Plenty in the garden of the gods, and she reveled
as she worked.

"Rose Mary," said Uncle Tucker as he came and stood beside her as she
began to train the clambering butter-bean vines around their tall
poles, "young Everett has got to go on to New York to-night on the
train from Boliver, and I told him you would be mighty glad to help
him off in time. I'd put him up a middling good size snack if I was
you, for the eating on a train must be mighty scrambled like at best.
We'll have to turn around to keep him from being late." And it was
thus broadside that the blow was delivered which shook the very
foundations of Rose Mary's heart and left her white to the lips and
with hands that clutched at the bean vines desperately.

"When did he tell you?" she asked in a voice that managed to pass
muster in the failing light.

"Just a little while ago, and the news hit Sister Viney so sudden
like it give her a bad spell of asthma, and Sister Amandy was sorter
crying and let the jimson-weed smoke get in her mouth and choke her.
They are a-having a kind of ruckus, with nobody but Stonie helping 'em
put Sis' Viney to bed, so I reckon you'd better go in and see 'em.
He's gone over to the north field to get a hammer or something he left
and will be back soon. Hurry that black pester up with the supper, I'm
so bothered I feel empty," with which injunction Uncle Tucker left
Rose Mary at the kitchen steps.

And it was a strenuous hour that followed, in which things were so
crowded into Rose Mary's hands that the fullness of her heart had to
be ignored if she was to go on with them. After a time Miss Lavinia
was eased back on her pile of pillows and might have dropped off to
sleep, but she insisted on having her best company cap arranged on her
hair and a lavender shawl put around he