en two such
controversialists. They could be seriously disputatious to the point of
quarrelling; they could be light-heartedly disputatious to the bantering
point, where either was uncertain which side of the argument he had
originally espoused.

"The gardener did not cut the chrysanthemums," Mrs. Galland said. "That
is why we had asters in the bowl at luncheon. His deafness is really a
cross, I never realized before what a companion one naturally makes of a
gardener."

"No, there's no purpose in having a deaf gardener," said Marta. "Nature
distributes her defects unintelligently. Now, if we had dumb demagogues,
deaf gossips, and steel that when it was being formed into a sword-blade
or a gun would turn to putty, we should be much better off. But we
couldn't let Feller go, could we? He's already made himself a fixture.
So few people would put up with his deafness! He's so desirous of
pleasing and he loves flowers."

"And Colonel Lanstron recommended him. Except for his deafness he is a
perfect gardener. Of course he had to have some drawback, for complete
perfection is impossible," Mrs. Galland agreed.

The old straw hat that shaded the fringe of white hair had been hovering
within easy approaching distance of the chrysanthemum bed ever since the
whistle of the train that brought Marta home had been heard from the
station. Feller was watching Marta when she paused for a moment on the
second terrace steps, enjoying the sweep of landscape anew with the
freshness of a first glimpse and the intimacy of every familiar detail
cut in the memory. It was her landscape, famed in history, where history
might yet be made.

His greeting was picturesque and effective. With white head bared, he
looked up from the chrysanthemums to her and back at them and up at her
again, with a sort of covert comradeship in his eyes which were young,
very young for such white hair, and held out his little pad and pencil.
She smiled approval and slowly worked out a "perfect" in the
deaf-and-dumb alphabet before she took the proffered pencil and wrote:

"I practised the deaf-and-dumb alphabet on the train. I'm learning fast.
We've never had such chrysanthemums before. Next year we shall have some
irises--just a few--as fine as they have in Japan. How's your
rheumatism?"

He had replaced the broad-brimmed hat over his brow and his lips were
visible in a lingering smile as he read the message.

"Thank you, Miss Galland," he said in his even mon