library and the list of books
Algernon had already ordered at her suggestion. They listened with
intelligent interest, and exchanged looks of pleasure at the thought of
such a storehouse to draw on in the long winter evenings, "when the
garden takes its nap," as the little Frau said lovingly.

The sun was perceptibly lower when Frieda rose to go. Then she
remembered Dr. Helen's errand. The faces of her host and hostess shone
at the name. "Heavenly kind! Yes! She had done much for them. They would
send her flowers gladly, but sell them to her? Never!"

With big shears they cut great stalks of everything the garden
contained, and, piling Frieda's arms with blossoms, while she uttered
protests and exclamations of delight, they escorted her to the gate.
There, in spite of her boasted emancipation from childhood, she dropped
a courtesy and left them, crying "_Ade!_" as long as they could see
her.

At the supper table at Three Gables, Dr. Helen, with Bert on one side,
and Archie on the other, called on each girl in turn for her story of
the afternoon.

Alice's turn came last.

"It was such a beautiful prescription!" she said. "I went to see Madam
Kittredge. Her daughter took me up to her big room furnished with old
mahogany heirlooms that made me feel as though I were in New England.
And there in an arm-chair sat the most beautiful white-haired woman I
ever saw. She is quite imposing and grand, but her smile saves her from
being awesome. I loved her at first sight, and was not shy about staying
alone with her. You would hardly know she is blind, would you? And she
is perfectly delightful. She asked about Mrs. Langdon, and told me some
droll stories of her odd ways, even when she was a young girl. She and
Mrs. Langdon and another girl were together a great deal when they were
young, and now they live within a radius of a hundred miles, but she
says they never travel, so it might almost as well be a thousand. One is
blind and one is lame and the third is deaf! She laughed about it as
though it were not sad at all. The deaf one has been quite ill recently,
and Madam Kittredge is making the prettiest present for her. She says
Mrs. Langdon writes regular letters to them both, but Madam Kittredge
can reply only by dictation, or by sending little gifts, and she takes
the greatest pleasure in doing that. She showed me what she was getting
ready for 'Matty,' as she calls the one who lives in Milwaukee. It
seemed so queer to hea