and
forsythia--we forced its yellow blossoms last week, you know; and the
flowering almond--that has whitey-pinky-buttony blossoms."

They laughed at Ethel's description, but they listened attentively while
she described the spiky white blossoms of deutzia and the winding white
bands of the spiraea--bridal wreath.

"I can see that bank with those white shrubs all in blossom, leaning
toward the road and beckoning you in," Ethel ended enthusiastically.

"I seem to see them myself," remarked Tom, "and Dorothy can be sure that
they won't beckon in vain."

"You'll all be as welcome as daylight," cried Dorothy.

"I hate to say anything that sounds like putting a damper on this
outburst of imagination that Ethel Blue has just treated us to, but I'd
like to inquire of Miss Smith whether she has any gardening tools," said
Roger, bringing them all to the ground with a bump.

"Miss Smith hasn't one," returned Dorothy, laughing. "You forget that
we only moved in here last September and there hasn't been need for any
that we couldn't borrow of you."

[Illustration: Gardening Tools]

"You're perfectly welcome to them," answered Roger, "but if we're all
going to do the gardening act there'll be a scarcity if we don't add to
the number."

"What do we need?"

"A rake and a hoe and a claw and a trowel and a spade and a heavy line
with some pegs to do marking with."

"We've found that it's a comfort to your back to have another claw
mounted on the end of a handle as long as a hoe," contributed Margaret.

"Two claws," Dorothy amended her list, isn't many."

"And a lot of dibbles."

"Dibbles!"

"Short flat sticks whittled to a point. You use them when you're
changing little plants from the to the hot bed or the hot bed to the
garden."

"Mother and I ought to have one set of tools here and one set at
Sweetbrier Lodge," decided Dorothy.

"We keep ours in the shed. I'm going to whitewash the corner where they
belong and make it look as fine as a fiddle before the time comes to use
them."

"We have a shed here where we can keep them but at Sweetbrier there
isn't anything," and Dorothy's mouth dropped anxiously.

"We can build you a tool house," Tom was offering when James interrupted
him.

"If we can get a piano box there's your toolhouse all made," he
suggested. "Cover it with tar paper so the rain won't come in, and hang
the front on hinges with a hasp and staple and padlock, and what better
would you want?"

"N