As spring advanced, the crocuses came up in rings of two; the tulips and daffodils followed suit; and circles of lilies of the valley peeped forth from wreaths of fern. In truth, the whole place presented a tantalizing arrangement of circles within circles.
A mania for transplanting seized upon us. More "horticultural atrocities" were perpetrated that summer than were ever dreamed of in Aunt Ellen's philosophy. Old ladies calling on mother remarked that her daughters seemed so fond of gardening, and callow youths looking over the back fence asked our reasons for transplanting asparagus into the pansy bed.
When we found the sign carved into the bark of the different shade trees, and chiseled into the stone foundation of the house (with a hand pointing downward), we realized that Aunt Ellen's sense of humor had been greatly underrated by us. She had evidently spent months, if not years, in preparing this cruel joke. Discouraged and humiliated, we resumed the duties of our former life, which now seemed stale and unprofitable.
About this time life, to me, assumed a singular aspect. I seemed to lose interest in everything, even in the iron box, and liked best of all to sit quite still and look into space. I became absent-minded, lost my appetite, had strange forebodings of some calamity about to befall me, and felt as if I had buried all my friends. Above all, I hated to hear Caroline sing to Mr. Otis. Mother said I had malaria, and gave me quinine, which I swallowed without a murmur, and had visions—which I shall not record. For even I did not recognize the malady which had laid me low.
Mr. Otis, too, seemed changed in some unaccountable way. He no longer chatted with me, but evinced a feverish desire to sing duets with Caroline, or to discuss psychology with Ellen Ann. Yet often when he was in the midst of a song or a discussion, I would find his melancholy eyes fixed upon me with so inscrutable an expression as to send my pulse fluttering high into the nineties. More curious still, he who had hitherto been, apparently, so indifferent to the hiding place of the iron box now became painfully anxious as to its whereabouts. Not a day passed but he asked each of us in turn if we were any nearer the solution of the
