could be like them
in anything I should do well; so I took to flowers because you loved
them, and to books because they were Uncle Roger's delight. The big
things seemed pretty big, but I thought the little ones would be better
than nothing."

The glow deepened on John Montfort's cheek, and the light in his eyes;
in Margaret's eyes the quick tears sprang; and with one impulse she and
her uncle held out their hands. Hugh grasped them both, and there was a
moment of silence that was better than speech. Hugh was the first to
break it. "I have two new friends!" he said, in his sweet, cordial
voice. "This day is better than I dreamed, and that is saying a good
deal. But now, go on with the roses, Uncle John, please; there are
several kinds here that I do not know. What is this cream-colored
beauty?"

"Why, that, Hugh, is my special pride. That is a sport of my own
raising; Victoria, I call her. She took a first prize at the flower show
last year. We were proud, weren't we, Margaret?"

"Indeed we were, Uncle John. Think, Hugh, she had two hundred and seven
buds and blossoms when we sent her. She looked like a snow-drift at
sunrise; didn't you, Victoria?"

"Could you send a plant of this size without injury? Ah! I see; pot
sunk. Well, she is a marvel of beauty, certainly. I have some slips
coming from home for you, Uncle; the box ought to be here to-day or
to-morrow. There are one or two things that I think you may not have.
But you have a noble collection; what a joy a rose-garden is!"

"Mine used to be the greatest pleasure I had," said Mr. Montfort, "until
I took to cultivating another kind of flower, the human variety." He
pinched Margaret's ear affectionately, and she returned the pinch with
a confidential pat on his arm.

"For many years," he continued, "I lived something of a hermit life,
Hugh. There were reasons--no matter now--at all events I preferred
solitude, and save for my good aunt, your great-aunt Faith, about whom
Margaret will have a great deal to tell you, I saw practically no one
from year's end to year's end. Very foolish, as I am now aware;
criminally foolish. I have got beyond all that, thank Heaven! During
this secluded period, my garden, and my roses in particular, were my
chief resource, next to my books. Indeed, in summer time the books had
to take the second place, and it should be so. You remember Bacon, Hugh:
'God Almighty first planted a garden; it is the purest of human
pleasures,' etc.