Marys Garden And How It Grew

XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI PAGE J R , T RONME V L I SITS THE GARDENS 1 . 32 SETTING O UT SEEDLINGS . . . . . 145 MARY IN MR. TROMMEL G S A RDEN . 149 TRANSACTION O S F THE HORTICUL TURAL CLUB. . . . , . . . . 156 THE POPPIES . . . . . . . . . 164 THE CLUB IN A R Y G S ARDEW . . 170 WHEN MARY WAS IN THE COUNTRY. 182 MR. TROMME T L E ACHES TH E ART OF BUDDING . . . . . . . . . . 187 TRANSPLANTIN PE G R ENNIALS . . . 195 THE FLOWE S R H OW. . . . . . . 204 SETTING O UT BULBS . . . . . . 215 BULBS FOR THE WIND W-GARDEN . 225 THE WINDOW-GARDEN. . . . . . 230 PLANTINTGR EES . . . . . . . . 235 MAKING A COMPOST HEAP . . . . 250 PUTTIN T G H E GARDEN T O SLEEP . . 257 MARYSS GARDEN AND HOW IT GREW LDS ANGBbES, CA. MARYS GARDEN AND HOW IT GREW MR. TROMRIELS ASSISTANT December I F you had looked out of a south window of the Maxwell house the day after Christmas, you would have seen a little figure hurrying along the path to the side gate, the brown curls bobbing vigorously up and down with the exertion. lfr. Maxwell was looking out of the window, watching the small figure which was making such a bek-line toward the little house with the roof all peaks and gables, the long glass house at the side, just across the road from the lIaxwells7 side gate. Going over to see old Trommel, I suppose, he said, turning to his wife, with a laugh. We 11 have a gardener in the family if we re not careful, Helen but I See a glimmer of hope for your rubberplant. We certainly need a gardener, responded she. But you need nt laugh at my rubber-plant. You know perfectly well, Roger 3laxwel1, that you could dt make even a rubber-plant. grow if you sat and fanned it all day. I only hope she does nt bother dear old Peter, Mrs. Maxmell added, as the child disappeared behind the greenhouse door. But Herr Peter Trommel, gardener, horticulturist, retired florist, and above all Gwitxer, was not in the least bothered. He was standing at the far end of the long greenhouse, a pile of soil on the bench in front of him, busily potting plants-an old man, very short, very broad, with a thick bush of beard. Mr. Trommel, Mr. Trommel called a joyous little voice as the door opened. The old man turned around. Ha That is mine young assistant he exclaimed, beaming through his spectacles at the small visitor. I brought over your present, Mr. Trommel, and I liked that most the best of anything, except Evan AIR. TROMMEVS ASSISTANT 5 geline. Suppose I put it on. Would nt you like to have me help you she said coaxingly as she unrolled a diminutive gardeners apron, made of blue denim, just like the one Mr. Trommel had tied about his capacious person. Yes, yes, agreed Herr Trommel I am in need of assistance. But hang up your coat and hat, little one they must not drop on the floor, for it is dirt. Mary hung up coat and hat, took off her rubbers, and then put the strap of the apron over her head and pulled out the curls that were caught underneath it. My strings come around in front and tie just like yours, she said, proudly then rolled up her sleeves above her elbows in faithful imitation of Mr. Trammels shirt-sleeves. uPrachtvoll declared Mr. Trommel. Now you are a real gardener... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.