Publisher's Synopsis
I don't know how all this is going to end, and I wish my mind wasn't in a kind of tingle. However, I'll do the best I can and not hold myself at all responsible for myself, and then who will there be to blame? There are a great many kinds of good feeling in this world, from radiant joy down to perfect bliss; but this spring I have got an attack of just old fashioned happiness that looks as if it might become chronic. I am so happy that I planted my garden all crooked, my eyes upon the clouds with the birds sailing against them, and when I became conscious I found wicked flaunting poppies sprouted right up against the sweet modest clove pinks, while the whole paper of bachelor's buttons was sowed over everything which I immediately began to dig right up again, blushing furiously to myself over the trowel, and glad that I had caught myself before they grew up to laugh in my face. However, I got that laugh anyway, and I might just as well have left them, for Billy ran to the gate and called Dr.
