Joseph’s coat of many colors; or rather, its robe presented the appearance of poor Joe Sweaten’s pantaloons, which are so darned and pieced and mended that no man can guess what the original material was, or whether any of it is left.  There was but one redeeming feature-the bouquet upon the pulpit.  Every Sunday, Sophie Jowett brought that bouquet.  As her father had a large conservatory, the bouquet was rarely missing even in winter.  As she has admirable taste it was always beautiful even when the flowers were not rare.  She had done her work very quietly, had asked no permission, had consulted with no one.  One Sabbath the bouquet appeared upon the pulpit.  After that it was never missing, except one Sunday when Miss Sophie was sick, and for three weeks in the Fall, when she was away from home.

Such was the condition of the church at Wheathedge when I bought my house.

Last spring Miss Sophie was married.  There were more tears and less radiance than usual at that wedding.  Mr. Line said that he never could supply the place in the Sunday-school.  Mr. Work came up from New York to marry them.  His voice was tenderer than usual when he pronounced the marriage ceremony.  The first Sabbath after that wedding the pulpit was without flowers.  Was there any who did not miss them, and in missing them did not miss her?  It took the last ornament from our church, which thenceforth looked desolated enough.

When Maurice Mapleson came the bouquet came back.  But it was made mostly of wild flowers.  I think his wife began it.  Perhaps it was this which suggested to Miss Moore’s fertile brain the idea of a church-garden.

At all events one Wednesday after prayer-meeting Miss Moore and Mrs. Biskit came to me.  “We want a dollar from you,” said Miss Moore.

“What for?” said I. Not that I thought of questioning Miss Moore’s demand,—­no one ever does that; but because I naturally liked to know what my money was going to do.

“We are going to start a church-garden,” said she.  “The trustees have given us the ground, and we want to raise about ten dollars for a beginning.”

I gave her the dollar and thought no more about it; indeed, I should have accounted the scheme quite chimerical if there had been any one at the head of it except Miss Moore.

However, the next week, as I was passing the church, I saw Miss Moore and Mrs. Biskit at work in the churchyard.  A little plot had been spaded up at one side, one or two walks laid out, and they were busy putting in some flower seed.  I thought of offering my services.  But as my agricultural education was neglected in my youth, and as my knowledge of gardening is very limited, I passed on.

My chance came pretty soon.  When Miss Moore has anything to do for the church every one gets an opportunity to help.