Her manner was the manner of one who has been wounded and thwarted at every point, and Godfrey was strengthened in his resolve, and within half an hour after she had driven away in her pony phaeton he had interviewed both Mrs. Tiffe and Perry, and was riding with John in the long democratic wagon down the road toward the cottage. Mrs. Rogers and Gertie were both in the garden this time, but when Godfrey explained his errand, the former, who was glad to be rid of the cumbrous piece of furniture, went in with John, while Godfrey remained outside with Gertie. “You must be very fond of gardening,” he said, and Gertie replied: “Yes, I am; I like it ever so much. Have you seen _the grave_ since you came home?” “Grave! Whose grave?” Godfrey asked, and she replied: “Mr. Lyle’s, the man who saved your life. Miss Armstrong told me all about it, and I felt so glad you were not killed, and so sorry for him and the young girl who liked him. She used to live here in this very house, and Miss Armstrong promised her, when she went away, to keep the grave up nice till she came back, and for a while she did, but the girl didn’t come, and Miss Armstrong got to forgetting it, you know, and when she told me about it, it was just awful with weeds and tangled grass. But it looks like a flower-bed now. I thought maybe you would be glad.” Her bright, eager eyes were fixed upon him for his approval, which he gave unqualifiedly. “He was glad, and to-morrow, after dinner, he would go and see it,” he said; and then as his services were needed for the heavy bureau, he lifted his hat to Gertie, and walked away. * * * * * “For pity’s sake, what are you doing?” Julia asked of Godfrey, when, after her nap and toilet, she came from her room and found the rear of the hall blockaded with furniture, and mattress, and bed-clothes, and Godfrey, very red in the face as he assisted Mrs. Tiffe, who was also anxious and excited. “Cooking some ‘potted sprats’ I guess, though I’m not quite sure,” was Godfrey’s reply; and when Julia, who was not very conversant with Mrs. Opie, demanded what he meant, he explained that as Aunt Christine was so grieved about the things sent to the cottage, and expressed herself as so desirous to have them back, especially the bedstead, he had decided to give her a pleasant surprise on her return that night from the Ridge. “Won’t she be delighted though!” And Godfrey’s face was very expressive as he tugged away at the heavy furniture. “There, she is sure to like that,” he said, when at last his work was finished, and the old fashioned, massive bedstead stood in the place the lighter one of oak had occupied, while the bureau was pushed into a corner as the only available spot. “I am glad you are so well satisfied,” Julia said; “but I doubt if you get any thanks for your trouble. Auntie will never sleep a night on that bedstead; she is the biggest coward in the world.”