On a town lawn, or
even up at the Glen, they would not have been in keeping, but here, in
the old-fashioned, sea-bound garden of the little house of dreams, they
BELONGED.

"They DO look nice," she said sincerely.

"The schoolmaster's bride always had cowhawks round her beds," said
Captain Jim. "She was a master hand with flowers. She LOOKED at
'em--and touched 'em--SO--and they grew like mad. Some folks have that
knack--I reckon you have it, too, Mistress Blythe."

"Oh, I don't know--but I love my garden, and I love working in it. To
potter with green, growing things, watching each day to see the dear,
new sprouts come up, is like taking a hand in creation, I think. Just
now my garden is like faith--the substance of things hoped for. But
bide a wee."

"It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and
think of the rainbows in 'em," said Captain Jim. "When I ponder on
them seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls
that'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there was
life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone
color and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you?"

Anne, who was counting her days like silver beads on a rosary, could
not now take the long walk to the lighthouse or up the Glen road. But
Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim came very often to the little house.
Miss Cornelia was the joy of Anne's and Gilbert's existence. They
laughed side-splittingly over her speeches after every visit. When
Captain Jim and she happened to visit the little house at the same time
there was much sport for the listening. They waged wordy warfare, she
attacking, he defending. Anne once reproached the Captain for his
baiting of Miss Cornelia.

"Oh, I do love to set her going, Mistress Blythe," chuckled the
unrepentant sinner. "It's the greatest amusement I have in life. That
tongue of hers would blister a stone. And you and that young dog of a
doctor enj'y listening to her as much as I do."

Captain Jim came along another evening to bring Anne some mayflowers.
The garden was full of the moist, scented air of a maritime spring
evening. There was a milk-white mist on the edge of the sea, with a
young moon kissing it, and a silver gladness of stars over the Glen.
The bell of the church across the harbor was ringing dreamily sweet.
The mellow chime drifted through the dusk to mingle with the soft
spring-moan of the sea. Cap