James and his daughter were now settled down in a place which they could call home; they furnished their rooms in a simple style, with nothing more than they needed for everyday wants. It gave Mary great pleasure in again being able to prepare her father's meals, and to look after his comforts in every way; and together they led a life of quiet happiness. The good friends with whom they lived had a large garden attached to the house, but as the farmer and his wife had their time too much taken up in the field to give much care to the garden, it was of little or no use to them. James saw that it could be made a profitable source of income by devoting it to the growing of flowers and fruit, and when he proposed to put this plan into execution the farmer's consent was willingly granted. During the autumn time, James had made his preparations, and when the warmth of spring had melted the winter snows, he began his work, assisted by Mary; and together they laboured from morning to night. The garden was divided into beds planted with all sorts of vegetables and flowers, and bordered with gravel walks. The old man was anxious to see the completion of his idea, and allowed neither himself nor his daughter rest until he had stocked the garden with their favourite flowers, rose trees, tulip and lily roots, and various kinds of shrubbery. Mary made a special study of cultivating some rare flowers, among which were some which had never before been seen in this part of the country. When the summer came, the garden showed such a burst of verdure and blossom, that the valley, which was overshadowed by dark trees, now assumed quite a smiling appearance. An orchard belonging to the farmer, which had also been taken in hand by James, soon bore evidence to his gardening skill in the shape of an abundant harvest of fruit. Indeed, it seemed as if the blessing of God was upon everything that James undertook. Settled in a comfortable home, and occupied in his favourite calling, the old gardener began to forget the troubles of the past, and to regain the cheerful humour which had made his conversation such a delight in the past. Once more he began to reflect upon the lessons which the flowers taught, and day by day he taught to Mary some new lesson which he had learned from them. One day a woman from the neighbouring village came to buy some flax from the farmer, and brought her little boy with her. While she was occupied in bargaining for the flax, her little child, finding the garden-gate open, had gone in and begun to plunder a full-blown rose bush, with the result that he scratched himself terribly with the sharp thorns. His mother and the farmer's wife, as well as James and his daughter, hearing his screams of pain, ran to him. The child, with his little hands all covered with blood, cried out against the naughty rose bush for having attracted him by its pretty flowers and then cruelly torn his hands.