The Pleasantville press., 1926-11-16
Love in the. Rose
Garden
BY CLARISSA MACKIE

THE family laughed at Joan's
l. garden-they called it "Joan's
garden of Dreams" and they teased
her about it in a kindly way. They
all loved it and sat in 1t when
they could, but Joan Worth was
the one who loved it best, who
worked in it, and dreamed over it,
always seeing beauty in it at any
season Of the year, 80 I"
"Joan's children have gone Ito
bed under a white blanket" smiled
Mrs. Worth when the first snow
came. The others looked out, see
ing the arbor great lump of
snow, and garden benches misshap-
en- oblongs. Every bush and vine
wore bridal veil Of white, or
sparkled with icy diamond drops
The sun shone wanly.
Well, Joan. my dear" said Nan
briskly, what has your garden to
offer today? A bouquet of idcles"
Joan looked out of the window
II believe l can get winter bou-
quet-there are some dried Gle
matis seeds and downy fluff. the
barberry bushes are full and red
rs there any romance in your
garden of dreams?" asked Nan
gently. Joan's thin face flushed
and her eyes were very soft.
IL am sure it must flower there,
Nan You remember your Stephen
used to SIT there with you she
smiled as Nan looked down at her
engagement ring
THAT is true" said Nan softly.
stephen always said the gar den
had a great deal to do with his
courtship But. my dear girl, |
am not talking about us; | am
speaking about romance for you
In your garden Are you sure there
IS not root somewhereT
Joan laughed. "There's love in
mist-and love lies bleeding,
and bride roses" she said mischiev-
ously.
Nan looked up shrewdly. "Those
flowers are all asleep--like you.
Joan Worth y she declared, and
stopped teasing Joan. She felt
sorry for her younger sister, who
was so timid and retiring that only
a very bold and persistent lover
could win her love. "And where
is such n" Nan asked herself
-"Stephen was the last eligible man
In Little River" And then she
thought of Stephens cousin, Mark
Raymond.she had only met him
once. but he was large, blond
young man with an aggressive nose
and chin and persistent blue eyes.
Il must ask Stephen to bring him
over the next time Mark comes to
Little River" she thought. and
planned some pretty frocks for the
unsuspecting Joan.
The afternoon that Stephen
brought Mark Raymond was a Sat
urday half-holiday. Nan had per-
suaded Joan to wear Il vivid orange
flannel frock which made tile girl
look like some brilliant-plumaged
bird. Donning an old russet cloak.
she prowled around the garden,
seeing 1t sometimes as 1T would be
when the first buds pushed through.
She was planning the garden for
another summer, when Il quiet
voice spoke. "Any room for weeds
in your garden, Miss Joan?" She
turned quickly to meet the admir-
ing eyes of Mark Raymond-she
had not seen him for several years
she had been small girl then
at her first grOwn-up dance, and
Mark had taken pity on her NOR
tification at being a wallfiower, and
had given her the most delightful
evening of her quiet life. She was
glad to see him.
"There is always room for friend
ly weeds, Mr.. Raymond" she said.
81 will have to explain-right along
here is the place where my dahlias
stand, all in a row like soldiers,
and as / raised them all myself for
several years, have named the
different varieties after the twelve
disciples-see the stakes with the
labelsY''
Mark went down the row, glanc-
ing at the labels-he read them
aloud: Matthew, Mark, Luke,
John" and so on. $50 l am not
weed, after ALL" said Mark Ray
mond. 81 am a nice dahlia in a
lady's garden -
"You are named for a saint" said
Joan prirnly.
"Of course, I am only humble
namesake," he said meekly, his
blue eyes never leaving her vivid
face, wondering why he had ever
called this child plain! Seems
only last week that you and l had
our famous evening at the charity
ball." he went on.
ut is ten years ago." Joan said,
and when he. did not answer she