The Master did not go down to the garage.

Instead, he circled the house again; and chugged off up the drive; bound for the station to meet a guest whose train was due in another ten minutes.
Dugan drew a long breath; and swaggered toward the garage.

His walk and manner had in them an easy openness that no honest man's could possibly have acquired in a lifetime.
The Mistress, deposited at the front veranda, chirped to Lad; and started across the lawn toward the chrysanthemum bed, a hundred feet away.
The summer's flowers were gone--even to the latest thin stemmed Teplitz rose and the last stalk of rose-tinted cosmos.

For dining table, now, and for living-room and guest rooms, nothing was left but the mauve and bronze hardy chrysanthemums which made gay the flower border at the crest of the lawn overlooking the lake.

Thither fared the Mistress, in search of blossoms.
Between her and the chrysanthemum border was a bed of canvas.