at it
cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. Was
it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at her? Was
she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was it merely
Minora's idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for bruises,
nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing exercise,
and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she did happen
to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of tumbling
down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly
veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps,
received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; I had
been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, but the best
of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his own use. But why
waste a thought on Minora at Easter, the real beginning of the year in
defiance of calendars. She belongs to the winter that is past, to the
darkness that is over, and has no part or lot in the life I shall lead
for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for joy that the
spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there is in my garden, and
of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant Easter day
I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the windflowers and
celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald,
to see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon was
so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up through the
leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, fat little white
clouds floating motionless in the blue. We had tea on the grass in the
sun, and when it began to grow late, and the babies were in bed, and all
the little wind-flowers folded up for the night, I still wandered in
the green paths, my heart full of happiest gratitude. It makes one
very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of beauty and
perfection anonymously lavished, and to think of the infinite meanness
of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we are if they are
not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely trust that the
benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may by degrees
be more deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and
cheerfulness, just like the happy flowers I so much love.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Elizabeth and her German Garden, by
"Eliz