"Kind? Not at all! It is always a pleasure to me to give flowers to those who appreciate them. Some people do not care for flowers; once I heard them called useless. Useless! Would God have created them if not for some good purpose? He knew the longing of our souls for beauty. Look at these wind flowers—anemones they are really notice how delicately they are made! And these daffodils—golden glories, I call them. Do you see how the tender green of the stalks is softly shaded off over the backs of the blooms? Here are wallflowers; we will have some of these for our posy because of their scent." "Their colours are lovely, too," Angel said; "but are we to have all these flowers for father? Oh, how good of you! What pretty variegated grass!" "It is called lady's grass or ladies' ribbons," Miss Goodwin told her, as she added a few strands to the bunch of flowers, and then tied all the stalks together with a piece of bass which she produced from the capacious pocket of the big, gardening apron she wore to protect her gown. "I am glad you like my garden," she proceeded, her blue eyes sparkling with pride as she noted the admiring glances the children were casting on every side; "will you come in and look at my house?" "It is very kind of you to ask us," Angel replied, "but we must not stay any longer, for we have some errands to do for Uncle Edward in the town." "Come again another day," said the old lady hospitably, as she placed the nosegay in the little girl's hand. "Pray give the flowers to your father with my compliments, and say I hope to have the pleasure of calling on him and Mr. Bailey before long." "Who shall we say sent them?" asked Gerald, thinking this was a capital opportunity of finding out the name of their new acquaintance. Miss Goodwin did not perceive the drift of his question, though she looked a trifle surprised as she answered— "Why, say I sent them, of course!" The children exchanged amused glances; then, after a moment's hesitation, Angel explained the situation. "You see, we do not know who you are," she said. "Won't you, please, tell us your name?" "You don't know who I am!" the old lady cried in amazement. "Well, I never! And I have lived in Wreyford all my life!" "But we only came last night," Angel reminded her, "and we don't know any one in Wreyford yet, except the Mickles; I know them because I went to their house when I spent a week here with Uncle Edward before Christmas, but I did not see you then. Father will like to know who sent him these lovely flowers!" "I am called Goodwin—Anna Goodwin—Miss Anna Goodwin," the little lady informed them with a slight stress upon the "miss." "I knew Mr. Bailey when he was a boy, and I knew your grandfather too! Well, if you really must go, good-bye! Come and see me again soon."