One evening Owen Ford found Leslie alone in it . Anne and Gilbert were away , and Susan , who was expected back that night , had not yet returned . The northern sky was amber and pale green over the fir tops . The air was cool , for August was nearing September , and Leslie wore a crimson scarf over her white dress . Together they wandered through the little , friendly , flower-crowded paths in silence . Owen must go soon . His holiday was nearly over . Leslie found her heart beating wildly . She knew that this beloved garden was to be the scene of the binding words that must seal their as yet unworded understanding . `` Some evenings a strange odor blows down the air of this garden , like a phantom perfume , '' said Owen . `` I have never been able to discover from just what flower it comes . It is elusive and haunting and wonderfully sweet . I like to fancy it is the soul of Grandmother Selwyn passing on a little visit to the old spot she loved so well . There should be a lot of friendly ghosts about this little old house . '' `` I have lived under its roof only a month , '' said Leslie , `` but I love it as I never loved the house over there where I have lived all my life . '' `` This house was builded and consecrated by love , '' said Owen . `` Such houses , MUST exert an influence over those who live in them . And this garden -- it is over sixty years old and the history of a thousand hopes and joys is written in its blossoms . Some of those flowers were actually set out by the schoolmaster 's bride , and she has been dead for thirty years . Yet they bloom on every summer .
Look at those red roses , Leslie -- how they queen it XXXXX everything else ! ''
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