the new principles of social life it was their privilege to put into practice. CHAPTER X. PRACTICAL COMMUNISM. A day or two after Ezra had laid his commands upon his wife, as we saw in the last chapter, he came home in the evening to find her in floods of tears. Her eyelids were all red with weeping, and she broke out afresh on seeing him. “What’s the matter?” asked Ezra, in much concern. “What has happened?” “My poor flowers, my pretty balsams!” sobbed Olive. “Has the calf got into your garden and spoiled your flowers, my poor child?” he said tenderly. “No, it wasn’t the calf, but they are all gone. Mary Winkle took them all.” “Oh!” said Ezra with a slight shock of surprise. “Yes, she has cleared the whole garden. She came to-day while I was out at Mrs. Huntley’s.” “How do you know it is she who has taken them?” “Napoleon Pompey told me he saw her pick them.” “Depend upon it, he is lying,” said Ezra with emphasis. “Negroes are as mischievous as monkeys, and——” “No, he didn’t do anything to the flowers,” interrupted Olive. “He was as pleased with them almost as I was myself, and worked ever so hard to help keep down the weeds. Besides, I went to Mary Winkle and saw them.” “Oh!” said Ezra helplessly. He wished it had been the calf or Napoleon Pompey or anybody or anything rather than Mary Winkle. He braced himself for what was coming. “She told me she did it with a purpose. She said I was getting more individualistic in my leanings every day, and that time was not curing me at all, that I was selfishly proud of my flowers. It isn’t one bit true,” sobbed Olive, with quivering chin. “I gave heaps of them away. I gathered a bunch for Mrs. Huntley just as I was going this morning.” Ezra groaned. “I know you did, dear,” he said. “She said I gloated over them and rejoiced because nobody else had any. I didn’t. I only loved them because I had tended them and reared them, and I knew them and watched for their buds. She said they didn’t belong to me, but to the Community, and that she took them on behalf of the general weal. Those are all grand words for nasty mean jealousy and covetousness,” said Olive passionately. “I hate Mary Winkle and I hate the Community.” “Oh, Olive, Olive!” cried Ezra with a gesture of entreaty. “Don’t say that, dear. It strikes me to the heart. Think of me, dear.” “My pretty flowers!” she said with a drooping of her mouth that betokened fresh tears. “I am so sorry, oh, more sorry than I can say,” said Ezra. “Mary Winkle has done wrong, and has administered a lesson in a cruel, brutal way.”