The gardens were coming on finely, and though they were planted so late, by the first of August they looked very green and pretty. The slips of geranium, heliotrope, and verbena had taken root, and were growing nicely, while lady-slippers, petunias, mignonette, and other seed plants had sprung up, and began to spread as if they meant to make up for lost time. Two of the former were the especial pride and delight of the little girls; the one a rose geranium belonging to Maggie. This, though a mere slip when it was set out, had shot up and spread itself around, and thrust out new leaves and buds in such a profuse, hearty, make-the-most-of-it manner, that it was quite a wonder to all who saw it. The other was a heliotrope which had been given to Bessie by her papa, and which also had been little more than a sprig when she first had it; but it was now a flourishing little plant, not running riotous in the way Maggie's geranium did, but fresh and fair, with a cluster or two of delicate, perfumed blossoms, and the promise of more. Upon these two the children bestowed particular care, hoping, and not without reason, that Cousin Alexander would think them each worthy of a prize.