ike a detective,
spying upon her, and hastily knocked again.

This time she heard at once, and coming quickly to the door, admitted
me, with a cordial smile and a hearty grasp of the hand that reminded
me of her son, and was totally unlike the clammy and noncommittal touch
of so many of the country folk, bred evidently of their general habit
of caution.

"You are Mrs. Evan, the Doctor's daughter. I know your father well,
though I have never met you face to face since you were a little girl."

Then the conversation drifted easily along to Miss Lavinia, and my
meeting with Horace, his professorship, the prospect of his being at home
all summer, and to the different changes in the community, especially
that wrought by the colony at the Bluffs, which were really the halfway
mark between Oaklands and Pine Ridge.

Mrs. Bradford saw the purely commercial and cheerful side of the matter;
as yet, few of the new places were well equipped with gardens,--it had
opened a good market for the farmers on the Ridge, and they were no
longer obliged to take their eggs, fruit, poultry, and butter into town.

In spite of a certain reticence, she was eager to know the names of all
the newcomers; but when I mentioned Mrs. Latham, saying that she was the
mother of Sylvia, one of her son's pupils, and described the beauty of
their place, I thought that she gave a little start, and that I heard her
speak the initials S. L. under her breath; but when I looked up, I could
detect nothing but a slight quiver of the eyelids.

Then we went out into the garden, arm in arm, for Mrs. Bradford's footing
seemed insecure upon the cobbled walk, and she turned to me at once as
naturally as if I were a neighbour's daughter. Together we grew
enthusiastic over the tufts of white violets, early hyacinths, and
narcissi, or equally so over the mere buds of things. For it is the
rotary promise that is the inspiration of a garden; it is this that
lures us on from year to year, and softens the sharp punctuation of
birthdays.

Was there anything in her garden that I had not? She would be so pleased
to exchange plants with me, and had I any of the new cactus Dahlias, and
so on, until we reached the walk's end, and turned about under a veteran
cherry tree that showered us with its almond-scented petals.

Then Mrs. Bradford relaxed completely, and pulling down a branch, buried
her face in the blossoms, drawing long breaths.

"I've kept away from the garden all d