In the Rectory garden a year might have passed, so great was the contrast between now and a week ago. Now the snowdrops were all that was left of the snow; and a treasure of aconites as bright as new guineas were scattered along the borders. Hatless and entranced the Rector was roaming from one cohort of green spears to another, each one of which would soon be flying the pennons of Spring. Pauline rushed to embrace him, and he without a word led her to see where on a sunny bank Greek anemones had opened their deep-blue stars. "Blanda," he whispered. "And I've never known her so deep in colour. Dear me, poor old Ford tells me he hasn't got one left. I warned him she must have sun and drainage, but he would mix her with Nemorosa just to please his wife, which is ridiculous--particularly as they are never in bloom together." He bent over and with two long fingers held up a flower full in the sun's eye, as he might have stooped to chuck under the chin a little girl of his parish. Monica had brought back a new quartet, which they practised all that Candlemas Eve. When it was time to go to bed Mrs. Grey observed in a satisfied voice that after all it must have been charming at the Strettons. "Oh, no, Mother, it was terribly dull," Pauline protested. "Now, dear Pauline, how could it have been dull, when you've brought back this exquisite Schumann quartet?" Margaret came to Pauline's room to say good-night, sat with her while she undressed and tucked her up so lovingly that Pauline was more than ever delighted to be back at home. "Oh, Margaret, how sweet you are to me. Why? Is it because you really do miss me when I go away?" "Partly," said Margaret. "Why are you smiling so wisely? Have you put something under my pillow?" Pauline began to search. "There's nothing under your pillow, except all the thoughts I have to-night for you." Once more Margaret leaned over and kissed her, and Pauline faded into sleep upon the happiness of being at home again. Next day after lunch her mother and sisters went to pay a long postponed call upon a new family in the neighbourhood, because Margaret insisted they must take advantage of this glorious weather which would surely not last very long. Pauline spent the early afternoon with the Rector and Birdwood, writing labels while they sowed a lot of new sweet-peas which had been sent to the Rector for an opinion upon their merits. The clock was striking four when Guy strolled into the garden. Somehow Pauline's labels were not so carefully written after his arrival, and at last the Rector advised her to take Hazlewood and show him Anemone Blanda. They left the big wall-garden and went across the lawn in front of the house to the second wall-garden, where most of the Rector's favourites grew as it pleased them best. "Oh, they've all gone to bed," said Pauline. Guy knelt down, and opened the petals of one. "They're exactly the colour of your eyes," he said looking up at her.