flowers, and he makes our little yard bloom with them all summer. But of
course," Honora added, "I've never seen anything like this."

"It has been a life work," answered Mr. Holt, proudly, "and yet I feel as
though I had not yet begun. Come, I will show you the peonies--they are
at their best--before I go in and make myself respectable for breakfast."

Ten minutes later, as they approached the house in amicable and even
lively conversation, they beheld Susan and Mrs. Robert standing on the
steps under the porte-cochere, watching them.

"Why, Honora," cried Susan, "how energetic you are! I actually had a
shock when I went to your room and found you'd gone. I'll have to write
Miss Turner."

"Don't," pleaded Honora; "you see, I had every inducement to get up."

"She has been well occupied," put in Mr. Holt. "She has been admiring my
garden."

"Indeed I have," said Honora.

"Oh, then, you have won father's heart!" cried Susan. Gwendolen Holt
smiled. Her eyes were fixed upon the roses in Honora's belt.

"Good morning, Miss Leffingwell," she said, simply.

Mr. Holt having removed the loam from his hands, the whole family,
excepting Joshua, Junior, and including an indefinite number of children,
and Carroll, the dignified butler, and Martha, the elderly maid, trooped