"Oh, father, I wish you could have seen her, she was so funny!" Gerald exclaimed, laughing merrily at the remembrance of Miss Goodwin's quaint figure. "Such a queer little woman she looked with an odd, old face, and wearing a short frock, and a big apron!" "And she has the kindest, bluest eyes I ever saw," Angel cried eagerly; "and a bright, clear voice—like a silver bell! She said we were to come and see her often; and she's going to call on you and Uncle Edward. Her name is Miss Anna Goodwin, and she lives in a dear little house called Myrtle Villa, at the bottom of the hill—we passed it as we drove from the station last night, only, of course, you wouldn't notice it in the dark." "I am sure she must be a charming old lady," Mr. Willis said earnestly; "but what made her think of sending these flowers to me?" he asked, looking puzzled. "Oh, because you are an invalid! She seemed to know all about us, and was quite surprised when we told her we did not know what she was called." And Angel repeated almost word for word the conversation they had held with Miss Goodwin. "Well, I feel most grateful to her," Mr. Willis said, when his little daughter had finished her tale, "and I hope she will keep her word, and come to see me. Now, in what can I arrange my flowers?" He glanced around the room, which was comfortably and substantially furnished; but there were no vases or jars to be seen. Angel went to the kitchen, and explained their need to the housekeeper, Mrs. Vallance, who told her to look into the china cupboard, and take whatever she wanted. Accordingly, she selected a big blue bowl, finding nothing more suitable, and returned with it to the dining room. Mr. Willis declared it was just the thing he required, and when he had arranged the flowers in it to his satisfaction, had it placed on a small table close by the side of his sofa. The children were delighted to see how much brighter their father was looking; his voice was more cheerful, and he spoke hopefully of a speedy recovery. When Mr. Bailey came in from the back garden, where he had been giving directions to a gardener the story of Angel and Gerald's interview with Miss Goodwin had to be told again. "Goodwin—Goodwin," he repeated thoughtfully, "why, of course I remember there was a Miss Goodwin in Wreyford! Is it possible she is still alive? She must be a great age!" "She said she used to know you, and grandfather too," Gerald said; "and I should think she is awfully old, her face is covered with wrinkles, and her hair is perfectly white." "Then I dare say it is the same Miss Goodwin. Where does she live? At Myrtle Villa? Of course I ought to have remembered! To think that she should be still alive!" And Mr. Bailey looked quite excited. "She must be a dear old soul, I am sure!" Mr. Willis exclaimed. "I only hope she did not rob her garden of all its flowers!"