HER FRIEND LITTLEJOHN

HE first time Littlejohn saw W. V.—a
year or so ago-—she was sitting on
the edge of a big red flower-pot, into which
she had managed to pack herself. A. bril-
liant Japanese sunshade was tilted over her
shoulder, and close by stood a large green
watering-can. This was her way of “ playing
at botany,” but as the old gardener could
not be prevailed upon to water her, there
was not as much fun in the game as there
ought to have been.

W. V. was accordingly consoling herself
with telling “Mr. Sandy’ — the recalcitrant
gardener —the authentic and _ incredible
story of the little girl who was “just ’scruci-
atingly good.”

Later, on an idyllic afternoon among the
heather, Littlejohn heard all about that excel-

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