Masie was never tired of watching these changes,
her wonder and delight increasing as the season
progressed.

In the earlier weeks there had been nothing but
flower-beds covered with unsightly clods, muffled
shrubs, and bandaged vines. Then had come a blaze
of tulips, exhausting the palette. And then, but a
short time before--it seemed only yesterday--every
stretch of brown grass had lost its dull tints in a coat
of fresh paint, on which the benches, newly scrubbed,
were set, and each foot of gravelled walks had been
raked and made ready for the little tots in new straw
hats who were then trundling their hoops and would
soon be chasing their first butterflies.

And now, on this lovely June morning, summer had
come--REAL SUMMER--for a mob of merry roses were
swarming up a trellis in a mad climb to reach its top,
the highest blossom waving its petals in triumph.

Felix waited until she had taken it all in, her face
pressed between the bars (only the privileged possessing
a key are admitted to the gardens within),
Fudge scampering up and down, wild to get at the
two gray squirrels, which some vandal has since stolen,
and then, remembering his promise to Ganger, he
called her to him and continued his walk.