ho will!' and away wid her! That
same other is in here now, and it's no sin to let yer peep, gin it's ye
own posies and ye chest they're in." So, throwing open the door
Anastasia revealed the slate shelf covered by a sheet of white paper,
while resting on an empty pickle jar, for a support, was the second hat,
of loosely woven black straw braid, an ornamental wire edging the brim
that would allow it to take a dozen shapes at will. It was garlanded by
a close-set wreath of crimson peonies grading down to blush, all in half
bud except one full-blown beauty high in front and one under the brim
set well against the hair, while covering the wire, caught firm and
close, were glossy, fragrant leaves of the wild sweetbrier made into a
vine.

Ah, well, this is an unexpected development born of our experiment and a
human sort of chronicle for The Garden, You, and I.

One of the most puzzling things in this living out-of-doors on our own
place is the reversal of our ordinary viewpoints. Never before did I
realize how we look at the outdoor world from inside the house, where
inanimate things force themselves into comparison. Now we are seeing
from outside and looking in at ourselves, so to speak, very much like
the robin, who has his third nest, lop-sided disaster having overtaken
the other two, in the old white lilac tree over my window.

Some of our doings, judged from the vantage point of the knoll, are very
inconsistent. The spot occupied by the drying yard is the most suitable
place for the new strawberry bed, and is in a direct line between the
fence gap, where my fragrant things are to be, and the Rose Garden.
Several of the walks that have been laid out according to the plan, when
seen from this height, curve around nothing and reach nowhere. We shall
presently satisfy their empty embraces with shrubs and locate various
other conspicuous objects at the terminals.

Also, the house is kept too much shut up; it looks inhospitable, seen
through the trees, with branches always tossing wide to the breeze and
sun. Even if a room is unoccupied by people, it is no reason why the sun
should be barred out, and at best we ourselves surely spend too much
time in our houses in the season when every tree is a roof. We have
decided not to move indoors again this summer, but to lodge here in the
time between vacations and to annex the Infant.

Oh, Mrs. Evan, dear! there is one thing in which _The Man from
Everywhere_ reckoned without h