Property of Venus

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THE SOUND of three men in loud discussion of planting-plans drew the man from Venus. This was at Mrs. Hort's neighborhood party on a fine May weekend. The forsythia's golden rain had ended; the magnolias had littered the lawns with their petals; the azaleas blazed in orange and purple and the dogwoods in pink and white.

Carl Vanderhoff, on his second bottle of beer and fourth hot-dog sandwich, said: "... I can't bother much with annuals this year. I shall have to do some surgery on that cracked Japanese maple..." He was medium-sized and a little gray, and taught French Lit at Penn.

Sydney Devore, the oldest of the three, lit his pipe and said: "... I've got three new kinds of cactus, and as soon as I get them unpotted..." He led a retired life as a consulting engineer.

Bill Converse, burly and ruddy, waved his fourth beer-bottle and said: "... if there's any screwy plant in the world, trust Sydney to plant it..." He was vice-president of the Keystone-Fidelity Insurance Company.

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