GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN’S STORIES
IV. THE STORY OF HUNGER AND FOOD
BY GRACE TABOR
“Perhaps if we went on hunger strike,” she had said, in a menacing tone, “a little attention might be paid to our bill of fare, and we should get what we want!”
Almost at once, however, the few scattered, blue-blooded, aristocratic, and very elegant Spencers shook their dainty heads until the frills of their great caps and ruffs fluttered as they do when a breeze plays over them; and the countess herself, speaking at last in her silvery, high-bred voice, put a quiet but firm veto on any such method of protest, Yet she was not in the least unkind, nor did she do it in a way to make the underbred Miss Salvia feel hurt or snubbed, though I must say the latter was scarlet when she finished, and showed unmistakable signs of realizing the bad taste of her attitude.
“A great deal of attention is paid to our menus,” said the countess, gently; “I am sure we cannot fail to be aware of that, And those charged with our care are not indifferent, by any means. Of course, therefore, we none of us can entertain for an instant, I am sure, any proposal to increase their anxiety, nor can we cherish a wish to follow any line of conduct that is plainly annoying or unkind or inconsiderate.”
It was a very long speech, even for a countess, and she leaned back with a little sigh that set her dainty pink [rills a-quiver again, looking altogether so lovely and delicate and fragile that every one present could hardly keep from shouting with delight at the vision of her, even while they could have wept at the cruel circumstance which was depriving her, as well as themselves, of health and strength.
“You need n't talk! The very idea of your complaining,” whispered the admiral, indignantly, fairly withering Miss Salvia with his fierce glance; “why, you can eat anything and thrive on it; sweet, sour, or savory, it ’s all the same to you.
She did not answer, but looked very sulky however, no one saw, for they were all so interested in the countess’s proposal.
“And they will come to understand, I am sure,” she was saying, as the admiral turned back from the scolding he had delivered, “if we just behave, and make the best of what we have. They are blundering the bills of fare dreadfully; but if they keep trying, they must soon strike on the right thing, for they will have gone right through the list.”
And that very night her prophecy came true. For a big sage came to visit, and he walked about the garden with the little sage, admiring, criticizing, and advising. And finally he said: “Heigh-o! Your Spencer hybrids are all running to vine, are n’t they?
“Well, there are n’t as many flowers as I thought they ’d have,” was the reluctant admission; “but they ’ve had lots of fertilizer,”
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