I do not know, I cannot say, Why, when I hear you sing, Those by-gone days come back to me, And in their long train bring To mind that dear old garden, with Its hovering honey-bees, And liquid-throated songsters on The blossom-laden trees; Nor why a fragrance, fresh and rare, Should on a sudden fill the air, Of mignonette! Your mem'ry seems a garden fair Of old-time flowers of song. There Annie Laurie lives and loves, And Mary Morison, And Black-eyed Susan, Alice Grey, Phillida, with her frown-- And Barbara Allen, false and fair, From famous Scarlet Town. What marvel such a garland rare Should breathe sweet odors on the air, Like mignonette? F. A. VII There was never such a summer of enchanting weather as that particular summer in Wells. The whole population of Somersetshire, save those who had crops requiring rain, were in a heaven of delight from morning till night. Miss Tommy Tucker was very busy with some girl pupils, and as accompanist for oratorio practice; but there were blissful hours when she "studied" the cathedral with Fergus Appleton, watching him sketch the stately Central Tower, or the Lady Chapel, or the Chain Gate. There were afternoon walks to Tor Hill, winding up almost daily with tea at the palace, for the bishop and his wife were miracles of hospitality to the two Americans. Fergus Appleton had declared the state of his mind and heart to Mrs. Kennion a few days after his arrival, though after his confidence had been received she said that it was quite unnecessary, as she had guessed the entire situation the moment she saw them together. "If you do, it is more than Miss Tucker does," said Appleton, "for I can't flatter myself that she suspects in the least what I am about." "You haven't said anything yet?" "My dear Mrs. Kennion, I've known her less than a fortnight! It's bad enough for a man to fall in love in that absurd length of time, but I wouldn't ask a girl to marry me on two weeks' acquaintance. It would simply be courting refusal." "I am glad you feel that way about it, for we have grown greatly attached to Miss Tucker," said the bishop's wife. "She is so simple and unaffected, so lovable, and such good company! So alone in the world, yet so courageous and independent. I hope it will come out all right for your dear mother's son," she added affectionately, with a squeeze of her kind hand. "Miss Tucker is dining here to-morrow, and you must come, too, for she has offered to sing for our friends."