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HEN the pleasure of mowing the lawn is past, then comes the pleasure of raking leaves. No wonder Helen is proud of having her birthday at the end of September, for perhaps autumn days are loveliest of all. The fields are yellow with goldenrod and blue with asters. The poison ivy runs up the trunks of the locust trees like a red and yellow flame. The air smells sweet of bonfires, and all kinds of smoky fragrance. Down in his greenhouses Mr. Steiger is burning tobacco to kill the chrysanthemum lice.

The time would soon come when the peanut wagon must be returned to George Vlachos. Even after they came back from camp the