-huge, heavy,
double blossoms, fragrant and delicate as roses. Patches of late iris
still lifted crested heads above pale sword-bladed leaves; sheets of
golden pansies gilded spaces steeped in warm transparent shade, but
larkspur and early rocket were as yet only scarcely budded promises; the
phlox-beds but green carpets; and zinnia, calendula, poppy, and
coreopsis were symphonies in shades of green against the dropping pink
of bleeding-hearts or the nascent azure of flax and spiderwort.

In the rose garden, and along that section of the wall included in it,
the rich, dry, porous soil glimmered like gold under the sun; and here
Selwyn discovered Nina and Eileen busily solicitous over the tender
shoots of favourite bushes. A few long-stemmed early rosebuds lay in
their baskets; Selwyn drew one through his buttonhole and sat down on a
wheelbarrow, amiably disposed to look on and let the others work.

"Not much!" said Nina. "You can start in and 'pinch back' this prairie
climber--do you hear, Phil? I won't let you dawdle around and yawn while
I'm pricking my fingers every instant! Make him move, Eileen."

Eileen came over to him, fingers doubled into her palm and small thumb
extended.

"Thorns and prickles, please," she said; and he took her hand in his and
proceeded to extract them while she looked down at her almost invisible
wounds, tenderly amused at his fear of hurting her.

"Do you know," she said, "that people are beginning to open their houses
yonder?" She nodded toward the west: "The Minsters are on the way to
Brookminster, the Orchils have already arrived at Hitherwood House, and
the coachmen and horses were housed at Southlawn last night. I rather
dread the dinners and country formality that always interfere with the
jolly times we have; but it will be rather good fun at the
bathing-beach. . . . Do you swim well? But of course you do."

"Pretty well; do you?"

"I'm a fish. Gladys Orchil and I would never leave the surf if they
didn't literally drag us home. . . . You know Gladys Orchil? . . . She's
very nice; so is Sheila Minster; you'll like her better in the country
than you do in town. Kathleen Lawn is nice, too. Alas! I see many a
morning where Drina and I twirl our respective thumbs while you and
Boots are off with a gayer set. . . . Oh, don't interrupt! No mortal man
is proof against Sheila and Gladys and Kathleen--and you're not a
demi-god--are you? . . . Thank you for your surgery upon my thumb--"