re restful neighbour of the two. What a complete couple they might
have made, but that is a bit of drift thought that I have put out of my
head, for if any two people ever had a chance this summer to fall in
love if they had the capacity, it was Maria and _The Man_, and the
strange part of it is that as far as may be known neither is nourishing
the sentiment of a melancholy past and no other present man or woman
stands between; perhaps it is some uncanny Opal spell that stays them.
Yet even as it is, in this farm restoration both are unconsciously
preparing to take a peep into Pandora's Chest full of the unknown, so
let us hope the gods are willing.

_Hallowe'en._ The Infant and Anastasia, her memories revived by Larry's
voluble and personally adapted folk-lore, are preparing all sorts of
traps and feasts for good luck and fairies, while Lady Lazy is content
to look at the log fire and plan for putting the garden to sleep.
Yesterday I finished taking up my collection of peonies, Iris, and hardy
chrysanthemums that had been "promised" at various farm gardens beyond
the river woods, and duly cleared off my indebtednesses for the same
with a varied assortment of articles ranging from gladioli bulbs, which
seem to multiply by cube root here, to a pair of curling tongs, an
article long coveted by a simple-minded woman of more than middle age,
for the resuscitation of her Sunday front locks, and which though
willing to acquire by barter she, as a deacon's wife, had a prejudice
against buying openly over the counter.

Meyer has gone, having relapsed into comparative cheerfulness a few days
before his departure on the receipt of a bulky letter which, in spite of
the wear and tear of travel, remained heavily scented, coupled with
Bart's assurance that he could remain in America another four weeks and
still be at a certain Baltic town of an unpronounceable name in time for
Christmas.

In spite of heavy frosts my pansies are a daily cheer, but it is really
of no use for even the flowers of very hardy plants to struggle on
against nature's decree of a winter sleeping time; the wild animals all
come more or less under its spell, and the dogs, the nearest creatures
of all to man, as soon as snow covers the ground and they have their
experience of ice-cut feet, drowse as near the fire as possible and in
case of a stove almost under it. I wonder if nature did not intend that
we also should have at least a half-drowsy brooding time,