The young man came--with the catalogue in his hand. His face was open and cheerful. "How far have you got?" asked Medfield. "I don't understand all your hieroglyphics," replied the young man, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "This, for instance!" He held out the book, pointing to a brilliantly colored specimen with little pencilled dots on the margin. Medfield glanced at it. "That means, 'Try again,'" he said. "Oh--!" He made a memorandum on the margin, smiling a little as he did it. "Munson never wants to try things twice," said his father. "You'll have to watch him, or he'll leave that out, now." He nodded to the brilliant-pictured rose. The boy's eye dwelt on it. "Looks worth trying for--several times," he said softly. "It is," replied his father. "It's hardy and fragrant and prolific--I am going to have Miss Canfield go out home--to see the garden," he added irrelevantly. The young man stood up. He looked at his father, a little bewildered, and then toward the door of the next room, where a white figure was flitting about at work. "I want her to see the garden," went on Medfield. "She has excellent taste--and common sense. She can tell me what Munson's up to--this is just the season he needs watching. No telling what he'll do!" "I see!" The young man turned over the pages of the Rotterdam catalogue slowly. He was absorbed in them. "She's going to-morrow afternoon," said Medfield. "Alone?" "I suppose she'll go alone, yes--unless you want to spare time to take her," said Medfield carelessly. "I shall be very glad to take her, sir!" "Very well." Medfield was indifferent. "You can arrange it between you--four o'clock is a good time to be there," he added. "The light is very good about four." He lay silent for a few minutes. It was growing dark in the room. "You might have them serve tea for you in the pergola," he said quietly. Julian started. He had thought his father was asleep. He came over to the bed. "I'll see that she has a pleasant afternoon, sir." He stood looking down at his father, his hands in his pockets. "She's been very good to me--taken good care of me, you know," replied Medfield. "I understand," said Julian. "I'll do everything I can to make it pleasant for her." He looked at his father--and opened his lips to say something and turned away. Miss Canfield had come in and touched the electric light, and it flooded softly into the room. XXXII Some one was singing in the linen-room. Aunt Jane, going by in the corridor, heard the little song and stopped and looked in. Miss Canfield, at work on her linen-cupboard, was singing happily as she worked. She had gathered up a handful of towels and carried them to the table and was looking at them with a little vexation, her lips still humming the song. She glanced up and saw Aunt Jane and the song stopped. She nodded to her. "Things are in a terrible state here!" Aunt Jane came leisurely in. "What's the matter?"