So he was quite patient if Lois was not on hand to hunt up a book for him or to fetch his slippers, and he fell into the habit of spending much time in Mr.
Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next hunting trip.

He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe.

"I'll just let that letter wait," he said, and went and stretched himself comfortably on the slippery, leather-covered sofa in the shaded library, with a paper in his hand and a satisfied smile on his lips.
The garden was ablaze with color, and full of all sorts of delicious scents and sounds.

The gay old-fashioned flowers poured a flood of blossoms through all the borders: hollyhocks stood like rockets against the sky; sweet-peas and scarlet runners scrambled over the box hedges and about the rose-bushes; mallows and sweet-williams, asters and zinias and phlox, crowded close together with a riotous richness of tint; scarlet and yellow nasturtiums streamed over the ground like molten sunshine; and, sparkling and glinting through the air, butterflies chased up and down like blossoms that had escaped from their stems.
Lois had come out to pick some flowers for the numerous vases and bowls which it was her delight to keep filled all summer long.

She was bareheaded, and the wind had rumpled the curls around her forehead; the front of her light blue dress--she wore light blue in a manner which might have been called daring had it implied the slightest thought--was caught up to hold her lapful of flowers; a sheaf of roses rested on her shoulder, and some feathery vines trailed almost to the ground, while in her left hand, their stems taller than her own head, were two stately sunflowers, which were to brighten the hall.
Mr.Forsythe caught sight of her as he closed the gate, and hurried down the path to help her carry her fragrant load.