Summer had really come on the heels of spring with such breathless haste that before they knew it they were plunged into warm weather. And nobody rejoiced more than Molly over the passing of the long cold winter. When at last the sun's rays broke through the crust of the frost-bound earth and wakened the sleeping things underneath, it had seemed to the young girl that her cup of happiness was overflowing. Not even to Judy and Nance could she explain how much she loved the spring. One day, seizing a trowel from some tools on the porch, she rushed into the garden and began digging in the flower beds. "You don't mind, do you, Mrs. O'Reilly?" she apologized. "I'm so glad spring is here at last that I've got to take it out in something besides book-learning." "I'm only too happy, Miss," said the widow. "Young ladies ain't often so fond of the smell of the earth." It was Molly who had introduced the cult of the garden to the other girls, and it was she who had first induced Mrs. O'Reilly to resurrect some garden seats from the cellar and a rustic table. Even as early as the first of May they had tea under the apple trees, and as the days grew warmer their friends found them reading and studying in the sunny enclosure. They had no idea of the charming picture they made grouped about in their garden; nor did they dream that Mrs. O'Reilly had occasionally allowed a visitor or two to peer at them through a crack in the dining room shutters. Mrs. McLean and Professor Green were two such privileged characters one afternoon when they called at O'Reilly's to leave notes of acceptance to a tea to which they had been invited by the old Queen's circle. The invitations in themselves were rather unusual. They were little water-color sketches done by Judy and Otoyo on oblong cards. Each sketch showed a bit of the garden, and the invitations stated that on the afternoon of June second there would be tea in the Garden of O'Reilly's. "Where is this garden, Mrs. O'Reilly?" Mrs. McLean had demanded, and the Irish woman, beckoning mysteriously, had shown them the scene through the crack in the shutter. "Why, bless the bairns," exclaimed Mrs. McLean, gazing through the opening, while Professor Green impatiently awaited his turn. "They might be a lot of wood nymphs disporting themselves under the trees." Then the Professor had looked and had discovered Molly Brown, in her usual blue linen--which was probably only an imitation linen--raking grass. Judy was softly twanging her guitar. Nance on her knees beside a bed of lilies was digging in the earth, and the others were variously engaged while Edith read aloud. The Professor looked long at the charming scene and then observed: "It is a pretty picture. Wherever these girls go they create an atmosphere." But he was thinking of only one girl. Someone else had called at O'Reilly's privately and asked to see the garden.