“I think I’ll keep up on the ridge that’s drained by nature.”

“That’s settled, then.  We can’t do much planning about the new garden until we go out in a body and make our decisions on the spot,” said Margaret.  “We’ll have to put in vegetables and flowers where they’d rather grow.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do here, only it’s on a small scale,” Roger reminded her.  “Our whole garden is about a twentieth of the new one.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if we had to have some expert help with that,” guessed James, who had gardened enough at Glen Point not to be ashamed to confess ignorance now and then.

“Mr. Emerson has promised to talk it all over with me,” said Dorothy.

“Let’s see what there is at Dorothy’s present abode, then,” said Roger gayly, and he took another sheet of brown paper and began to place on it the position of the house and the existing borders.  “Do I understand, madam, that you’re going to have a pink border here?”

“I am,” replied his cousin firmly, “both here and at the new place.”

“Life will take on a rosy hue for these young people if they can make it,” commented Della.  “Pink flowers, a pink room—­is there anything else pink?”

“The name.  Mother and I have decided on ‘Sweetbrier Lodge.’  Don’t you think it’s pretty?”

“Dandy,” approved Roger concisely, as he continued to draw.  “Do you want to change any of the beds that were here last summer?” he asked.

“Mother said she liked their positions very well.  This long, narrow one in front of the house is to be the pink one.  I’ve got pink tulip bulbs in the ground now and there are some pink flowering shrubs—­weigelia and flowering almond—­already there against the lattice of the veranda.  I’m going to work out a list of plants that will keep a pink bed blossoming all summer and we can use it in three places,” and she nodded dreamily to her cousins.

“We’ll do that, but I think it would be fun if each one of us tried out a new plant of some kind.  Then we can find out which are most suitable for our needs next year.  We can report on them to the Club when they come into bloom.  It will save a lot of trouble if we tell what we’ve found out about what some plant likes in the way of soil and position and water and whether it is best to cut it back or to let it bloom all it wants to, and so on.”

“That’s a good idea.  I hope Secretary Ethel Blue is taking notes of all these suggestions,” remarked Helen, who was the president of the Club.

Ethel Blue said she was, and Roger complimented her faithfulness in terms of extravagant absurdity.

“Your present lot of land has the best looking fencing in Rosemont, to my way of thinking,” approved Tom.

“What is it?  I hardly remember myself,” said Dorothy thoughtfully.

“Why, across the front there’s a privet hedge, clipped low enough for your pink garden to be seen over it; and separating you from the Clarks’ is a row of tall, thick hydrangea bushes that are beauties as long as there are any leaves on them; and at the back there is osage orange to shut out that old dump; and on the other side is a row of small blue spruces.”