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Rh hair and running her fingers through it till it crackled and followed them, standing out around her.

“Jane,” protested Mary, “go away! You make me think of the burning bush and ‘the pillar of fire by night,’ till I feel quite wicked and irreverent.”

Instead of going away Jane came over and kissed Mary in the hollow of the back of her neck: “If I could make you feel wicked, you old lump of goodness, you, I’d follow you around every minute. ’Tisn’t fair that Mel and I have all the Garden badness—all the weediness,” she declared.

Just as Mary and Jane ran downstairs, both fresh and lovely in pale lawns, Win came in at the front door.

“What’s up?” he asked at once. “Mr. Moulton telephoned the office for me to be home early, that he was coming here to tell us all something, and would like me to be here, if I could be. What’s up?”

“We don’t know,” began Mary, slightly disturbed, feeling that this must portend more than the naming of a new hybrid. Jane took the words out of her mouth. “We don’t know,” she said, “but I’m sure that we have had a lot