Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 104, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 May 1916 — THE HIDDEN GARDEN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE HIDDEN GARDEN

By VICTOR REDCLIFFE.

“Bah!" uttered Gilbert Warner, retired business man and village magnate. “Rubbish, eh?" intimated his companion, fat, indolent and good-natured judge Walton. “Franked from Washington, a box of government seeds, and from Congressman Martin Lacey. An insult!” roared the captious Warner. “Why! does he dare to fancy he could buy me with a box of vegetable seeds? The scoundrel! I voted against him, and next time I’ll marshal every friend I have to snow him under. Bah!" . „ “Hold on —” began his friend, but be spoke too late. With a vim, as though he were casting deadly poison from his clasp, Warner gave the box a fling. They had Just come from the post office, and the team side of the street was guarded by an iron fence from the river below. Over the fence went the disdained cardboard box. “You Just do that again!” yelled irate Juvenile tones, but too far removed to reach the ears of Warner or his companion. The package had landed on the head of Nat Borden. He had been lining the narrow bank of the river seeking a quiet place to fish. As the box grazed him, tilted and went over into the water, however, he unshipped his pole and ran after it. The box looked substantial. It didn’t appear to be empty. Nat cast for it half a dozen timesL Finally he hooked it and brought it ashore. Nat climbed up to and over the iron fence, but no one seemed to be looking after a missing box. He shook it and poked Inside. He read the words

“SEEDS” in big black type on the outside. “I know what’s in it now,” he soliloquized—"some of them free seeds from the government. Everybody in town got a package, I guess, only this is a big box of them. I don’t want ’em. I’ll give ’em to Miss Winnie.” Miss Winnie was a rare friend of Nat Borden—“a pal,” he boasted proudly to his intimate boy friends. She lived with her notional, tyrantlike, rheumatic old aunt Just next door to the Bordens. Winnie was seventeen and would have been a tomboy if her strict aunt had allowed her. The conventlike solemnity of the old house had made Winnie desperate at times. Miss Dorothy, her aunt, ruled her with a rod of iron. Never was Winnie allowed any freedom save that of the rambling back yard. But she had discovered an adjoining paradise. Over th© fence was a discarded overgrown plot of ground belonging to the extensive grounds of the Warner place. There Winnie had swung a hammock between two trees. She had arranged a beard in the fence so it opened and closed like a gate. In that bush-guarded spot she read, slept, had her day dreams. Nat knew well where to find her. He dashed into her presence and flung down the box. “There! that’s for you,” he announced. “Mebbe there’s some fine garden seeds in it, and you love flowers, I’ve heard you say.” “Oh, yes, indeed!” fluttered Winnie delightedly, and then her face fell as she revealed the goodly store in the box. “Oh, dear!” she sighed dolorously—"lettuce, onions, parsley, tomatoes, carrots. But it gives me an idea, ‘"“and I’ll take you in oh partnership, Nat Where did you ever get them?” Nat told. Then Winnie’s eyes brightened as she unfolded her scheme. She was tired of doing nothing, she was shut up like some nun, and her saving aunt never gave her a penny. They would earn some money. Would Nat help her ? Would he! and he vowed to keep the secret of their great enterprtse, Nat smuggled rake, spade and hoe front the family toolhouse. Before school and after school, and nearly all day Saturday the accommodating little fellow assisted the industrious Winnie in preparing a good-sized plot of ground for culture. They -laughed with Joy aa“ the seeds began to sprout. .“We shall have the earliest vegetables in town, this 801 l Is so rich and so sheltered with plenty of sunshine!” exulted Winnie. “Then you shall sell

the Btuff, Nat, and you shall have an even half of all we get.” “Crackety! flfty-flfty!” crowed Nat “Why, I can get enough to get a new club uniform!” “And I shall have ribbons and ehooolates, all I can eat!” cried Winnie. That very thing came to pass. Aunt Dorothy never suspected what waß going on. As to the Warners, none of the family ever penetrated beyond the thick hedge that shut out of view that neglected spot of the great rambling grounds. As the crops came up Winnie did up the fresh, crisp packages in tissue paper, and Nat became prime vendor of the delicate and delicious green stuff. At the end of the week both felt wealthy. “The stuff takes like hot cakes!** reported Nat one afternoon, displaying about one-half a pint of dimes, nickels and pennies. “Oh, Miss Winnie! I’ve got over nine dollars saved up. Why, there’s my best customer, young Mr. Warner! How do you do, sir?” In vast confusion and embarrassment Winnie arose to confront a stranger and the first intruder upon their solitude. She had heard that Mr. Warner’s son, Clyde, had recently come home from college. She flushed guiltily as she realized that they were discovered as trespassers. But the* handsome man lifted his hat so courteously, he smiled so indulgently, he proceeded so quickly to take in the situation as a clever bit of business, that Winnie was soon at her ease. “I declare?” he observed. “I really believe your wonderfully fresh ‘garden sass’ has been a sure tonic to my father. He says he never tasted such superb green stuff. And the enterprising young huckster here who supplies our household daily never intimated that it was grown right on our own place.” There were three gardeners after that, for daily Clyde would visit the hidden*- garden. And when' the last early spring vegetables had run out there was a fourth member to the coterie —the little god, Cupid! Yes, Winnie had met her hero and Clyde Warner his fate. Aunt Dorothy had to be told, and the bright earnest ways of Clyde won her over. Papa Warner was Just as tractable, and Winnie was engaged—oh, the delightful finale to the innocent scheme that had begun through political enmity! And one evening when both families were together, the story of little Nat came out. Mr. Warner sprang to his feet at the recital of the rescue of the hated box of seeds he had cast to the windfs. “That grafting scoundrel’s bribe to me!” he stormed. “And I luxuriated on the proceeds! Why didn’t I choke on the stuff?" And then he laughed uproariously, and caught his prospective daughter-in-law in his arms. “No, no!” he declared heartsomely —“party enemy or not, he has sent to our lonely home its brightest blessing!" (Copyright, 1316, by W. O. Chapman.)

“We Shall Have the Earliest Vege-, tables In Town.”