ough he scarcely ever saw
them. Then, past the pines, were roses just breaking into June
bloom--roses in such profusion as Jims hadn't known existed, with dear
little paths twisting about among the bushes. It seemed to be a garden
where no frost could blight or rough wind blow. When rain fell it must
fall very gently. Past the roses one saw a green lawn, sprinkled over
now with the white ghosts of dandelions, and dotted with ornamental
trees. The trees grew so thickly that they almost hid the house to
which the garden pertained. It was a large one of grey-black stone,
with stacks of huge chimneys. Jims had no idea who lived there. He had
asked Aunt Augusta and Aunt Augusta had frowned and told him it did
not matter who lived there and that he must never, on any account,
mention the next house or its occupant to Uncle Walter. Jims would
never have thought of mentioning them to Uncle Walter. But the
prohibition filled him with an unholy and unsubduable curiosity. He
was devoured by the desire to find out who the folks in that tabooed
house were.

And he longed to have the freedom of that garden. Jims loved gardens.
There had been a garden at the little house but there was none
here--nothing but an old lawn that had been fine once but was now
badly run to seed. Jims had heard Uncle Walter say that he was going
to have it attended to but nothing had been done yet. And meanwhile
here was a beautiful garden over the wall which looked as if it should
be full of children. But no children were ever in it--or anybody else
apparently. And so, in spite of its beauty, it had a lonely look that
hurt Jims. He _wanted_ his Garden of Spices to be full of laughter. He
pictured himself running in it with imaginary playmates--and there was
a mother in it--or a big sister--or, at the least, a whole aunt who
would let you hug her and would never dream of shutting you up in
chilly, shadowy, horrible blue rooms.

"It seems to me," said Jims, flattening his nose against the pane,
"that I must get into that garden or bust."

Aunt Augusta would have said icily, "We do not use such expressions,
James," but Aunt Augusta was not there to hear.

"I'm afraid the Very Handsome Cat isn't coming to-day," sighed Jims.
Then he brightened up; the Very Handsome Cat was coming across the
lawn. He was the only living thing, barring birds and butterflies,
that Jims ever saw in the garden. Jims worshipped that cat. He was jet
black, with white paws and dick