“I know what I’d like to have for the wild border—­either wild ginger or hepatica,” announced Helen after some thought.

“I don’t know either of them,” confessed Tom.

“You will after you’ve tramped the Rosemont woods with the U.S.C. all this spring,” promised Ethel Brown.  “They have leaves that aren’t unlike in shape—­”

“The ginger is heart-shaped,” interposed Ethel Blue, “and the hepatica is supposed to be liver-shaped.”

“You have to know some physiology to recognize them,” said James gravely.  “There’s where a doctor’s son has the advantage,” and he patted his chest.

“Their leaves seem much too juicy to be evergreen, but the hepatica does stay green all winter.”

[Illustration:  Wild Ginger]

“The ginger would make the better edging,” Helen decided, “because the leaves lie closer to the ground.”

“What are the blossoms?”

“The ginger has such a wee flower hiding under the leaves that it doesn’t count, but the hepatica has a beautiful little blue or purple flower at the top of a hairy scape.”

“A hairy what?” laughed Roger.

“A scape is a stem that grows up right from the or root-stock and carries only a flower—­not any leaves,” defined Helen.

“That’s a new one on me.  I always thought a stem was a stem, whatever it carried,” said Roger.

[Illustration:  Hepatica]

“And a scape was a ‘grace’ or a ‘goat’ according to its activities,” concluded Tom.

“The hepatica would make a border that you wouldn’t have to renew all the time,” contributed Dorothy, who had been thinking so deeply that she had not heard a word of this interchange, and looked up, wondering why every one was laughing.

“Dorothy keeps her eye on the ball,” complimented James.  “Have we decided on the background flowers for the wild bed?”

“Joe-Pye-Weed is tall enough,” offered James.  “It’s way up over my head.”

“It wouldn’t cover the fence much; the blossom is handsome but the foliage is scanty.”

“There’s a feathery meadow-rue that is tall.  The leaves are delicate.”

“I know it; it has a fine white blossom and it grows in damp places.  That will be just right.  Aren’t you going to have trouble with these wild plants that like different kinds of ground?”

“Perhaps we are,” Helen admitted.  “Our garden is ‘middling’ dry, but we can keep the wet lovers moist by watering them more generously than the rest.”

“How about the watering systems of all these gardens, anyway?  You have town water here and at Dorothy’s, but how about the new place?”

“The town water runs out as far as Mr. Emerson’s, luckily for us, and Mother says she’ll have the connection made as soon as the frost is out of the ground so the builders may have all they want for their work and I can have all I need for the garden there.”

“If you get that next field with the brook and you want to plant anything there you’ll have to dig some ditches for drainage.”