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almost bewildering to find herself in some degree thus sharing the
Silliston community life； and an unpremeditated attitude toward these
learned ones； high priests of the muses she had so long ignorantly
worshipped； accounted perhaps for a great deal in their attitude toward
her。 Her fervour； repressed yet palpable； was like a flame burning
before their altarsa flattery to which the learned； being human； are
quick to respond。 Besides； something of her history was known； and she
was of a type to incite a certain amount of interest amongst these
discerning ones。 Often； after she had taken their dictation； or brought
their manuscripts home； they detained her in conversation。 In short；
Silliston gave its approval to this particular experiment of Augusta
Maturin。 As for Mrs。 Maturin herself； her feeling was one of controlled
pride not unmixed with concern； always conscious as she was of the hidden
element of tragedy in the play she had so lovingly staged。 Not that she
had any compunction in keeping Janet's secret； even from Insall； but
sometimes as she contemplated it the strings of her heart grew tight。
Silliston was so obviously where Janet belonged； she could not bear the
thought of the girl going out again from this sheltered spot into a
chaotic world of smoke and struggle。
Janet's own feelings were a medley。 It was not； of course； contentment
she knew continually； nor even peace； although there were moments when
these stole over her。 There were moments； despite her incredible good
fortune； of apprehension when she shrank from the future； when fear
assailed her； moments of intense sadness at the thought of leaving her
friends； of leaving this enchanted place now that miraculously she had
found it； moments of stimulation； of exaltation； when she forgot。 Her
prevailing sense； as she found herself again； was of thankfulness and
gratitude； of determination to take advantage of； to drink in all of this
wonderful experience； lest any precious memory be lost。
Like a jewel gleaming with many facets； each sunny day was stored and
treasured。 As she went from Mrs。 Case's boarding…house forth to her
work； the sweet； sharp air of these spring mornings was filled with
delicious smells of new things； of new flowers and new grass and tender；
new leaves of myriad shades； bronze and crimson； fuzzy white； primrose；
and emerald green。 And sometimes it seemed as though the pink and white
clouds of the little orchards were wafted into swooning scents。 She
loved best the moment when the Common came in view； when through the rows
of elms the lineaments of those old houses rose before her； lineaments
seemingly long familiar； as of old and trusted friends； and yet ever
stirring new harmonies and new visions。 Here； in their midst； she
belonged； and here； had the world been otherwise ordained； she might have
lived on in one continuous； shining spring。 At the corner of the Common；
foursquare； ample； painted a straw colour trimmed with white； with its
high chimneys and fan…shaped stairway window； its balustraded terrace
porch open to the sky； was the eighteenth century mansion occupied by Dr。
Ledyard。 What was the secret of its flavour？ And how account for the
sense of harmony inspired by another dwelling； built during the term of
the second Adams； set in a frame of maples and shining white in the
morning sun？ Its curved portico was capped by a wrought…iron railing；
its long windows were touched with purple； and its low garretset like a
deckhouse on the wide roofsuggested hidden secrets of the past。 Here a
Motley or a Longfellow might have dwelt； a Bryant penned his
〃Thanatopsis。〃 Farther on； chequered by shade； stood the quaint brick
row of professors' houses； with sloping eaves and recessed entrances of
granitea subject for an old English print。。。。 Along the border of the
Common were interspersed among the ancient dormitories and halls the new
and dignified buildings of plum…coloured brick that still preserved the
soul of Silliston。 And to it the soul of Janet responded。
In the late afternoon； when her tasks were finished； Janet would cross
the Common to Mrs。 Maturin'sa dwelling typical of the New England of
the past； with the dimensions of a cottage and something of the dignity
of a mansion。 Fluted white pilasters adorned the corners； the windows
were protected by tiny eaves； the roof was guarded by a rail； the
classically porched entrance was approached by a path between high
clipped hedges of hemlock； and through the library； on the right； you
reached the flagged terrace beside a garden； rioting in the carnival
colours of spring。 By September it would have changed。 For there is
one glory of the hyacinth； of the tulip and narcissus and the jonquil；
and another of the Michaelmas daisy and the aster。
Insall was often there； and on Saturdays and Sundays he took Mrs。 Maturin
and Janet on long walks into the country。 There were afternoons when the
world was flooded with silver light； when the fields were lucent in the
sun； and afternoons stained with blue；the landscape like a tapestry
woven in delicate grins on a ground of indigo。 The arbutus； all aglow
and fragrant beneath its leaves； the purple fringed polygala were past；
but they found the pale gold lily of the bellwort； the rust…red bloom of
the ginger。 In the open spaces under the sky were clouds of bluets； wild
violets； and white strawberry flowers clustering beside the star moss all
ashimmer with new green。 The Canada Mayflower spread a carpet under the
pines； and in the hollows where the mists settled； where the brooks
flowed； where the air was heavy with the damp； ineffable odour of growing
things； they gathered drooping adder's…tongues； white…starred bloodroots
and foam…flowers。 From Insall's quick eye nothing seemed to escape。 He
would point out to them the humming…bird that hovered； a bright blur；
above the columbine； the woodpecker glued to the trunk of a maple high
above their heads； the red gleam of a tanager flashing through sunlit
foliage； the oriole and vireo where they hid。 And his was the ear that
first caught the exquisite； distant note of the hermit。 Once he stopped
them； startled； to listen to the cock partridge drumming to its mate。。。。
Sometimes； of an evening； when Janet was helping Mrs。 Maturin in her
planting or weeding； Insall would join them； rolling up the sleeves of
his flannel shirt and kneeling beside them in the garden paths。 Mrs。
Maturin was forever asking his advice； though she did not always follow
it。
〃Now； Brooks；〃 she would say； 〃you've just got to suggest something to
put in that border to replace the hyacinths。
I had larkspur last yearyou rememberand it looked like a chromo in a
railroad folder。〃
〃Let me seedid I advise larkspur？〃 he would ask。
〃Oh； I'm sure you must haveI always do what you tell me。 It seems to
me I've thought of every possible flower in the catalogue。 You know；
too； only you're so afraid of committing yourself。〃
Insall's comic spirit； betrayed by his expressions； by the quizzical
intonations of his voice； never failed to fill Janet with joy； while it
was somehow suggestive； too； of the vast fund of his resource。 Mrs。
Maturin was right； he could have solved many of her questions offhand if
he had so wished； but he had his own method of dealing with appeals。 His
head tilted on one side； apparently in deep thought over the problem； he
never answered outright； but by some process of suggestion unfathomable
to Janet； and by eliminating； not too deprecatingly； Mrs。 Maturin's
impatient proposals； brought her to a point where she blurted out the
solution herself。
〃Oriental poppies！ How stupid of me not to think of them！〃
〃How stupid of me！〃 Insall echoedand Janet； bending over her weeding；
made sure they had been in his mind all the while。
Augusta Maturin's chief extravagance was books； she could not bear to
await her turn at the library； and if she liked a book she wished to own
it。 Subscribing to several reviews； three English and one American； she
scanned them eagerly every week and sent in orders to her Boston
bookseller。 As a consequence the carved walnut racks on her library
table were constantly being strained。 A good book； she declared； ought
to be read aloud； and discussed even during its perusal。 And thus Janet；
after an elementary and decidedly unique introduction to worth…while
literature in the hospital； was suddenly plunged into the vortex of
modern thought。 The dictum Insall quoted； that modern culture depended
largely upon what one had not read； was applied to her； a child of the
new environment fallen into skilful hands； she was spared the boredom of
wading through the so…called classics which； though useful as milestones；
as landmarks for future reference； are largely mere reminders of an
absolute universe now vanished。 The arrival of a novel； play； or
treatise by one of that small but growing nucleus of twentieth century
seers was an event； and often a volume begun in the afternoon was taken
up again after supper。 While Mrs。 Maturin sat sewing on the other side
of the lamp； Janet had her turn at reading。 From the first she had been
quick to note M