ges it would be impossible to convey the old-world charm
pervading it, its stately dignity and the aspect of long-established
well-being over all. Peter seemed to know every inch of it, every plant
in it was as a child to him, and not the tiniest seedling was
overlooked, for--

"The gardener, in his old brown hands,
Turns over the brown earth
As if he loves and understands
The flowers before their birth;
The fragile, childish little strands
He buries in the earth."

Dr. Hunter was often quite astonished at the amount of work the old man
would get through. Certainly he had two or three assistants, but they
were young and raw and had to be watched and told what to do; but Peter
always said he preferred them young, because "They didna hae quite sic a
gude conceit o' theirsels," and any young man who could get his training
under Peter thought himself very fortunate. Everything with him was done
in due season and for love of his work; there was no rushing or
hurrying--it was indeed a garden of peace.

Marjory loved the garden. It was here that the happiest hours of her
life had been spent; here that she had watched the ways of birds and
flowers and insects; here that she had listened to Peter's tales of
olden times; and here that she had dreamed dreams of her father, and
built many a castle in the air. She was glad when she saw that this
beloved garden was casting its charm upon her friend. It was looking
very lovely in the afternoon sunshine. Butterflies were flitting
amongst the flowers, and the hum of bees and many insects made the air
musical with sound of happy life. A gorgeous dragon-fly sailed past
them, wheeling round as if to show its wonderful glittering colours to
the best advantage in the sunshine. Blanche had never seen such a thing
in her life, and after it had gone she lingered many minutes hoping that
it might pass back again. But it did not come, and the time was slipping
away. Marjory spied the bent back of Peter in the distance, and the two
girls went towards him, Marjory calling to him to come and take them to
the farm.

Peter was not to be hurried; he was tying up a carnation plant, and he
continued his job with only a nod at the girls. He finished the last
knot just as they reached him, and straightening himself and raising his
hat, he said, "I'm ready noo."

Marjory said to Blanche, "This is Peter;" and then turning to Peter,
"This is Miss Forester. Aren't you pleased to see h