Chapter XXIV
There is something pleasurable about planning a farm or even a garden. Here potatoes will grow, here oats, there wheat. Or if it be a garden, roses, carnations and rhododendron. The planning of a garden is almost like the weaving of a tapestry of perfume and color.
Jethro Trent attacked the task of rehabilitating the Joel farmstead with keen interest. For more than a year the fields had remained fallow, they had not known the touch of hoe or plow. They were overgrown with weeds and wire-grass, a horrible blot upon the well-nourished countryside. No wonder the house looked so forlorn and dejected, so utterly drab and colorless.
[245]
