Such a boundless, beautiful world opened to her while she stood there, looking down the blossoming vistas of the orchard—solitary, yet comforted! She would give rein to imagination for that little while. It could harm no one, even if it were all a chimera that would not outlast blossom-time. And must it be _that_? What had glorified other desolate women’s lives might bless hers. Spring comes to every year, however long and cruel may have been the winter. Recalling March’s prophecy of future association, she dared dwell upon visions of his visits, of the pleasant familiar talks that would make them better acquainted; of the books they would read and discuss; of the pictures he would paint, with her looking on. “I am not beautiful or accomplished,” she said humbly. “But I would make myself more worthy of him. I am young and apt. I would make no mistakes that could mortify him. He should never be ashamed of me, and, oh!” she stretched her arms involuntarily, as if to draw the unseen nearer to her heart—“how faithfully I would serve him, forever and forever.” The flight of fancy had indeed been fast and far! The tinkle of the dinner bell in Mary Ann’s vigorous hand ended the fond foolishness abruptly. It was the careful housewife who asked herself with a guilty start: “What has become of Homer and the parsley?” Her first step in returning was upon something hard. She picked it up. * * * * * Homer met his young mistress at the back door. His weak, furtive eyes were uneasy before she accosted him. At her incisive tone the red rims closed entirely over them, his hands, grimy with groping in gravel and turf, fumbled with one another, and his loose jaw dangled. “Homer, you said this afternoon that you had been out to do an errand. Do not leave the place again without letting me know where you are going, and for what.” “Now,” he began wretchedly, “you wasn’t at home, ’n I thought——” “I forbid you to think! I will do the thinking for this family. You knew where to find me. If you had not, you ought to have waited until I got back. I mean what I say!” He shifted miserably from one foot to the other, and, as she passed him, cleared his dry throat. “Now, ’spose Mrs. Wayt was to send me out in a hurry?” “Tell her that you have my orders.” “Now——” She looked over her shoulder at him, impatient and contemptuous. He had never seen her so angry with him before. He plucked at the battered brim of an old military cap clutched in one hand. He had found it in the garret, and believed that it became him rarely. “I was ’bout to say as I hed los’ what I hed——” “I found it. Not another word! There is no excuse for you!” CHAPTER V.