ish soil. Between the
two gardens a thick row of tall, splendid sunflowers made a stately
hedge. Then came larkspur, peonies, stocks, and sweet-williams, verbenas
and mignonette, with borders of lobelia and heliotrope. Along the fence
were sweet peas, for which Alberta is famous.

But it was the part of the garden close about the front porch and
verandah where the particular genius of Richard Dunbar showed itself.
Here the flowers native to the prairie, the coulee, the canyon, were
gathered; the early wind flower, the crowfoot and the buffalo bean, wild
snowdrops and violets. Over trellises ran the tiny morning-glory,
with vetch and trailing arbutus. A bed of wild roses grew to wonderful
perfection. Later in the year would be seen the yellow and crimson
lilies, daisies white and golden, and when other flowers had faded,
golden rod and asters in gorgeous contrast. The approach to the door of
the house was by a gravel walk bordered by these prairie flowers.

The house inside fulfilled the promise of the garden. The living room,
simple in its plan, plain in its furnishing, revealed everywhere that
touch in decorative adornment that spoke of the cultivated mind and
refined taste. A group of rare etchings had their place over the mantel
above a large, open fireplace. On the walls were to be seen really fine
copies of the world's most famous pictures, and on the panels which ran
'round the walls were bits of pottery and china, relics of other days
and of other homes.

But what was most likely to strike the eye of a stranger on entering the
living room was the array of different kinds of musical instruments.
At one end of the room stood a small upright piano, a 'cello held one
corner, a guitar another; upon a table a cornet was deposited, and on
the piano a violin case could be seen, while a banjo hung from a nail on
the wall.

Near the fireplace a curiously carved pipe-rack hung, with some half
dozen pipes of weird design, evidently the collection of years, while
just under it a small table held the utensils sacred to the smoker.

When Barry entered he found the table set and everything in readiness
for tea.

"Awfully sorry I'm too late to help you with tea, dad. I have had a long
walk, and quite a deuce of a time getting home."

"All right, boy. Glad you are here. The toast is ready, tea waiting to
be infused. But what happened? No, don't begin telling me till you get
yourself ready. But hurry, your meeting hour will