purple and white of the iris and violet succeed the daffodil, only to give way to the red and gold of the tulip and those in turn to the blue of love-in-the-mist, cornflower and ageratum. For almost four years hogs had rooted where had bloomed snowdrop and crocus. The rose of England and the lily of France were dead. The hogs had succeeded in uprooting almost everything. One sturdy seven-sister rose had been benefited by much digging around its roots and had grown to goodly size. Clusters of tiny pink buds covered the bush as though to flaunt in the face of the porkers the superiority of seven-sisters over them.
The marble basin of the fountain had proven an ideal hog wallow. The little bronze boy who for so many years had tirelessly held aloft the shell in which to catch the pearly drops that sprayed from the simply contrived fountain had toppled over and was so covered with mud that even the hogs had lost sight of him. The sun-dial, whose fluted column had been such an excellent scratching post for razor-backs, was also prone and seemed to be awaiting burial.
To the rear of the mansion buildings that had in early days been placed out of sight and far away from the house had gradually crept closer as rebuilding had from time to time become
