"Are we going to live in the house where all the vines are?" she asked, when Miss Rose was done. "Yes, dear, you are." "And I can stay there always?" "Yes, Clematis." "And will you be my grandpa always?" She looked up at Mr. Brooks. He smiled and kissed her hot cheek. "Yes, little maiden. You shall be my housekeeper, and we shall be as happy as robins in an apple tree." So Miss Rose went back to Boston, and told them all the story. The children made her tell it over and over again. They said it was better than any fairy tale they had ever read. "And did she really sleep out in the woods alone?" asked Sally. "And does her grandfather really and truly have a big white house on a hill?" asked Jane. "Yes, yes, yes. It is all true, every word of it," answered Miss Rose. Even Clematis could hardly believe it all, at first. She followed her grandfather all about, wherever he went, for fear he might fly away, and never come back. In the golden October, they moved up to the white house on the hill, grandfather, Clematis, and Deborah. There Clematis had the room over the porch, where the vines climbed around her window. She could look out each morning, and see the river, and the lakes, with the mountains beyond. She felt a little strange among all the new people she saw each day, and she had very much to learn. But Clematis learned the best thing of all, to do the best she could, and she soon grew into a sweet, useful girl. Her little friends loved her, and her teachers helped her, for she tried to please them, and never complained because things were not easy to do. When she heard that Sally and the other girls could hardly believe her story, she went and whispered to her grandfather. "May I?" she asked. "Of course you may," he said, "as many as you want." Then she wrote a letter all her own self. She invited all the girls her own age, at the Home, to visit her the next summer, and see for themselves. So if you ever go to Tilton, you must look about for a strong, happy girl, with big brown eyes, who studies her lessons, and works in the garden, and has the happiest time any girl ever had, with her grandfather, in the big white house on the hill. End of Project Gutenberg's Clematis, by Bertha B. Cobb and Ernest Cobb