I

NEW GARDENS IN THE WINDOWS

DECEMBER was a month for putting things away. The envelopes of seeds which Davy and Prue and the Chief Gardener had gathered were all put into separate tin boxes, and these boxes were put in a dry place on the top cupboard shelf, where they would not be disturbed. The bulbs and roots were also put into dry boxes in the basement, and the different kinds labelled in large plain letters by Davy, who could print very nicely indeed.

The bulbs were quite interesting. Some, like those of the Easter lily, had small bulbs formed inside of them. Others, like the crocus, had tiny bulbs formed on the outside, and then there were bulblets which had formed above the ground, just where the leaf joins the stalk. These were little lily bulbs.

So all the seeds and bulbs and roots were put away for the winter, except a few that Davy and Prue planted in some pots for their window-gardens.

They decided to have different things this year. Instead of scarlet runners to climb on the sides of his window, Davy had decided to have melon vines. His cantaloupes had not done very well in the garden, for the reason that the pumpkin had sent its long tendrils across the cantaloupe bed, and the pollen had been carried from the flowers of one to the other by the busy bees, and this caused all his cantaloupes to have a flavor of pumpkin. Davy had eaten them, though, and even little Prue had said they were not so very bad, and had really eaten nearly all of one piece. Now, Davy was going to have two cantaloupe vines, and let them climb on each side of his window, and see if he couldn't raise some melons that folks would be glad to get a piece of.

In the middle of his window he was going to have an eggplant, which he very much wanted to try, and in the little pots at the sides, there were to be a peanut, which he wanted to try, too, and a special little red pepper which had looked very nice in the seed-catalogue. Then there were two little pots, one holding a small turnip and the other a radish, which Davy wanted to see bloom and go to seed.

So, you see, Davy's garden was going to be quite different this year, and Prue's was different, too. For Prue did not have morning-glories to climb, this winter. Not because she did not like them, but because she wanted her window, like Davy's, to be different from the window of the winter before. She had a cypress vine planted this year, on one side, and a moon vine on the other. And in the center of her window, she was to have a cosmos flower, with a fuchsia and a hyacinth and a tulip at the sides, and one of her precious pinks brought in from the summer garden. Of course, the tulip and the hyacinth were to grow from little bulbs, while the fuchsia was a small plant which she had bought at the greenhouse. And in this way both the windows were to be very different from the winter before, and many new things were to be learned in seeing the seeds and the bulbs and the roots sprout and grow and bloom.

And there was one thing more which was to be different, for Prue and Davy had put their money together and bought a Japanese fern-ball to hang between the windows, and a hook to hang it on. The ball they soaked in warm water, as the directions had said, and then hung it on the hook. As often as it seemed dry they soaked it again, and one day it was sending out little green points, and soon, even before the rest of their window-garden was fairly started, there were feathery little fern leaves all over the ball, and before Christmas it was very beautiful indeed.

II

TO THE GARDEN OF SLEEP

December was not a very bright month for Davy and Prue. Very little snow fell, so they could not use their sleds. If it had not been for their gardens and their lessons, which took several hours each day, they would have been rather lonely, looking out on brown woods and meadows.

But there was the joy of Christmas coming, and this thought made them happier, as each day brought it nearer. They counted the weeks first, then the days, and at last the hours. And then they had secrets. Secrets from big Prue and the Chief Gardener, and secrets from each other. Sometimes little Prue whispered to big Prue, and did not want Davy to hear. Sometimes Davy whispered to the Chief Gardener, and stopped very quick and began to whistle, if Prue came into the room. Packages began to be brought in after dark, or when everybody else was upstairs, and then, one afternoon—the afternoon of that wonderful eve when stillness and mystery seem to gather on the fields—there was a row of stockings along the mantel, hanging ready for somebody to fill. Santa Claus, of course, must do that, but there were packages hidden here and there for the good old Saint to find and put where they belonged. And Prue and Davy were in bed almost before dark, because you see the time passes quicker if you are asleep, and the sooner to bed the sooner to sleep. But when big Prue came in to kiss them good-night she told them a story—the old sweet story of the Little Child who was born so long ago, and to whom the first gifts were brought by the wise men. And then she told how that little baby boy in the manger had become a sweet child, with games and playmates like other children, with toys and, perhaps, a little garden of his own, something as they had made during the summer-time. And she told also a little story which, perhaps, is only a story, but it is what it would seem might have happened to the Little Child of Bethlehem.

"Once," she said, "when he was playing he grew very tired and thirsty, and his playmate was very thirsty, too. So Jesus ran to the well for a cup of water, and hurried back with it without stopping to drink. But his playmate was greedy, for he seized the cup and drank it all, except a few drops at the bottom. Then he gave the empty cup to Jesus, who took it and let the last few drops fall on the grass, when suddenly from where they fell there flowed a little clear stream of water, with lilies-of-the-valley blooming along its banks."

"Please sing the verse about the story of old," said Davy, when she had finished.

So his mother sang:

And it was only a moment longer that the Christmas Saint had to wait on the sand-man, for presently the door closed softly on the singer. Davy and Prue had entered the fair garden of sleep.

III

IN THE GARDENS OF CHRISTMAS

I cannot tell you all the wonders of that Christmas. I can only tell you that the presents which the little family had bought for one another were all in their proper places next morning, and that there were ever so many things that nobody but Santa Claus could possibly have brought. There was a Christmas tree, for one thing, the kind of a tree that nobody but Santa Claus ever raises, or brings, and there was everything upon it and about it that a little boy and girl could want, unless they wanted a great deal more than a little boy and girl ought to have, at one time.

But the very finest Christmas gift of all was a splendid great big snow-storm, which had begun in the night and was still going on, as fast and as thick as the big, soft, fleecy flakes could fall. Every few minutes the children left the beautiful tree to look at the beautiful snow. They could hardly wait until breakfast was over, and the Chief Gardener had made a photograph of the tree with them in it, before they wanted to rush out with their sleds.

All at once Davy called Prue to the window.

"Look," he said, "some of these flakes on the window-sash are like little white flowers!"

Then every one came to see, and, sure enough, some of the snowflakes that had fallen next to the glass were wonderfully shaped, and did look like tiny blossoms. The Chief Gardener got a magnifying-glass and they looked at them through it, when they saw how really beautiful they were.

"I have heard them called 'the flowers of winter,'" said big Prue. "There is a little story about how the flowers complained that they must all die when cold weather came, and never see the winter. So then their spirits were allowed to come back as snowflakes."

That was a glorious Christmas. All day the snow came down outside, and all day the big fire blazed and the Christmas tree gleamed and shimmered and sparkled inside. And then, in the afternoon, there was a Christmas dinner which was quite as good as any of the rest of the things, even to the snow. And after the dinner was over, and they sat around the fire, the Chief Gardener said:

"We have had a happy year. I know it has been happy, for the time has gone so fast. It seems not more than a few weeks ago that we were keeping last Christmas, and almost no time at all since Prue and Davy started their first little gardens in the window. Yet, a week from to-day, and that will be a year ago, too. Now, I have a plan. It was Prue who made me think of it. She said something not long ago that I made into a little verse, about annuals, biennials, and perennials. Then Prue made one, too, about herbs and shrubs and trees. Now I propose that we each make some rhymes for New Year's day to celebrate the starting of the window-garden, and also the little garden which Prue and Davy had outside. The rhymes must tell something that has been learned during the year, and they must be short, and easy to remember. Of course, we won't expect very much, but Prue has done so well, that I am sure the rest of us can do something, too."

"I never made any rhymes," said Davy.

"I'll help you," said Prue. "It's just as easy."

So they all agreed, and during the holidays, when the children were not busy with their sleds or books or gardens, they were making rhymes.

IV

SOME VERSES AND THEN GOOD-BY

And these are the rhymes that were read and recited after dinner on New Year's day, just a year after the first little window-garden was started. I shall not tell you whose they were.

Of course, you will all remember little Prue's:

and the Chief Gardener's:

but the writers of the others you will have to guess.

Davy rather objected to the last line of these verses. He said that it was some return to take good care of plants, especially in the hot summer-time, when it was ever so much nicer to sit in the shade. So another little rhyme was made, like this:

Then to end the day they all sang a little song about the snowflakes, that Jack Frost sends out of his gardens of winter-time:

And so ends the story of a year, and of its little gardens. Also of Prue and Davy, who owned the little gardens, and of her who was called big Prue and of him who was called the Chief Gardener. Other years will bring other gardens, and other summers. Prue and Davy will grow older, and learn more and more with each year that passes. But no year will ever be happier and no gardens ever brighter than those to which we are now saying good-by.

Transcriber's Notes

Minor punctuation errors corrected on pages 16, 68, 104, 105, 214, 219, 276, 285, 294, 297, 328.

Slight discrepancies in some of the titles given in the Table of Contents and those given at the beginning of each section have been retained here.

Original spellings and hyphenation have been retained except in the cases of these apparent typographical errors:

Page 23, "lovelly" changed to "lovely." (I never saw anything so lovely...)

Page 60, "no" changed to "not." (...not to look at their garden...)