"You don't suppose Henry will cut them down for weeds when they come up, do you?" I said.
"Seems probable," said Jonathan. "You might stick in a few bulbs that'll come up early and mark the spot."
"Oh, yes. And we could put a line of sweet alyssum along each side, to last along after the bulbs are over."
"You can do that in the spring if you want to. I'll bring up some bulbs to-morrow."
The winter passed and the spring came—sweet, tormenting.
"Jonathan," I said at luncheon one day, "I got the sweet alyssum seed this morning.
"Sweet alyssum?" He looked blank. "What do you want sweet alyssum for? It's a foolish flower. I thought you weren't going to have a garden, anyway."
"I'm not; but don't you remember about the phlox? We said we'd put in some sweet alyssum to mark it—so it wouldn't get cut down."
"The bulbs will do that, and when they're gone it will be high enough to show."