There is no reason against, but many strong reasons for, interrupting the lines of a long pergola by making a dome of open woodwork between the four middle columns of support--assuming that all the rest of the woodwork is straight---and creating a curved alcove with a seat between the two back supports, thus forming at very little extra expense, an additional bower to the others which will come into existence year by year in a garden that is properly looked after. When I was a schoolboy I was brought by my desk-mate to his father's place, and escorted round the grounds by his sister, for whom I cherished a passion that I hoped was not hopeless. This was while my friend was busy looking after the nets for the lawn tennis. There were three summer-houses in various parts of the somewhat extensive grounds, and in every one of them we came quite too suddenly upon a pair of quite too obvious lovers. The sister cicerone hurried past each with averted eyes--after the first glance--and looked at me and smiled. We were turning into another avenue after passing the third of these love-birds, when she stopped abruptly. “We had better not go on any farther,” said she. “Oh, why not?” I cried. “Well, there's another summer-house down there among the lilacs,” she replied. We stood there while she looked around, plainly in search of a route that should be less distracting. It was at this moment of indecision that I gazed at her. I thought that I had never seen her look so lovely. 1 felt myself trembling. I know that my eyes were fixed upon the ground--I could not have spoken the words if I had looked up to her--she was a good head and shoulder taller than I was:-- “Look here, Miss Fanny, there may be no one in the last of the summer-houses. Let us go there and sit--sit--the same as the others.” “Oh, no; I should be afraid,” said she. “Oh, I swear to you that you shall have no cause, Miss Fanny; I know what is due to the one you love; you will be quite safe--sacred.” “What do you know about the one I love?” she asked--and there was a smile in her voice. “I know the one who loves you,” I said warmly. “I'm so glad,” she cried. “I know that he is looking for me everywhere, and if he found us together in a summer-house he would be sure to kill you. Captain Tyson is a frightfully jealous man, and you are too nice a boy to be killed. Do you mind running round by the rhododendrons and telling Bob that he may wear my tennis shoes to-day? I got a new pair yesterday.” I went slowly toward the rhododendrons. When I got beyond their shelter I looked back. I did not see her, but I saw the sprightly figure of a naval man crossing the grass toward where I had left her, and I knew him to be Commander Tyson, R.N. Their second son is Commander Tyson, R. N., today. But from that hour I made up my mind that a properly designed garden should have at least five summer-houses. I have just made my fifth. CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH