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A lovely night wind is blowing across my garden and bringing me congratulations from all my flower family. Flowers are a part of love and the wooing of it, and they understand. I am waiting for the light to go out behind the tall trees over which the moon is stealthily sinking. He promised me to put it out at once, and I'm watching the glow that marks the place where my own two men creatures are going to rest, with my heart in full song.,

Elinor showed a neat parcel tucked under her muff-arm. "Chicken and lettuce," she said delectably. "White grapes for dessert. Have you seen Margaret Howes and Griffin?",

"Mother, what is it? What does Dido sing?",

"Dido! Well, I admit that such a barbaric treasure would tempt her, the more particularly as she knows about such wizard instruments. Ask her if she took it."

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"Hallelujah! It's the fee!" cried Griffin, with a green and gold packet in her hands. "Hurrah for Kendall Major! She's the stuff!",

"Undoubtedly he believes that Mrs. Dallas killed Maurice," thought Jen, "and that is why he refuses to confess to me. He said that I would be the first to blame him for telling all he knew, and as he is under the delusion that Mrs. Dallas is guilty, I understand now the reason of his silence. Also he said that he would never marry Isabella; which shows that he is afraid of becoming the husband of a woman whose mother has committed a crime. Poor boy, how he must suffer; and after all I must say that I approve of his honorable silence. But!" added the major to himself, "when he knows that Mrs. Dallas is innocent and that Etwald is guilty, he will then be able to marry Isabella!",

"I have an excellent excuse," interrupted David, rising.,

There is one exercise here on page twenty that I hate worst of all. You screw up your face tight until you look like a Christmas mask to get your neck muscles taut, and then wobble your head round like a new-born baby until it swims. I did that one twenty extra times and all the others in proportion to make up for those two hours in bed. Hereafter I'll get up at the time directed on page three, or maybe earlier. It frightens me to think that I've got only a few weeks more to turn from a cabbage-rose into a lily. I won't let myself even think "perfect flower" and "scarlet runner." If I do, I get warm and happy all over. I try when I get hungry to think of myself in that blue muslin dress.