“I am afraid you will not be very glad to have me back to trouble you,” murmured Norine. “For I do trouble you dreadfully, I know.” “I am more than glad to have you back,” said Conway, pressing the hand that rested so lightly on his arm. “And you must not trouble me. You must remember, and”--with a little break in his voice--“be merciful.” Norine made no answer to this, but she glanced softly at him as she entered the house, and her gayety seemed somewhat diminished. Yet they were all very happy together that day; it was such a joyful home-coming. Jim went over the farm with his agent and general factotum, Higgins, and found many things to commend, while Norine was equally pleased with the care that Mrs. Higgins had taken with the house. And Conway took Master Clinton to the big red barn and introduced him to all the animals and fowls of the farm, bringing him back presently in a perfect fever of delight over a certain speckled calf that Conway had gravely assured him had been sent expressly for him. And then Norine had donned one of the big aprons, and had insisted on helping Mrs. Higgins to prepare dinner, whereupon Conway had valiantly seized the bread knife and expressed his determination to help them both. They got rid of him, however, after some parley, and the two women were left alone. “How nice everything is looking, Mrs. Higgins,” said Norine. “I had no idea that you could make the place look so pretty. And where did you get all those pretty vines? Why, the house will be covered with flowers by July.” “Oh, them?” replied Mrs. Higgins, with her usual snort. “I didn’t get ’em; ther doc brot ’em over an’ stuck ’em in ther groun’ hisself. Ther doc’s gettin’ kinder cranky over flowers, I guess. He made the old man spade up that place over there, and planted it hisself. I told him I wanted thet place for the kitchen ’arbs; but lawk, he didn’t pay no ’tention ter me, but jes went on a-stickin’ in his seeds, like I hadn’t sed nothin’ ’tall.” “Why, where are they?” cried Norine anxiously. “I can see no flowers?” “Ther hain’t no flowers ter see, yit, an’ I don’t believe there’ll be none,” replied Mrs. Higgins, whisking away at some eggs that she was beating. “There’s some green stuff er comin’ up, but ’tain’t like no flowers I ever seen;” and she ended with a palpable sniff of disapproval. Norine hurried out to the little plot that had cost Conway so much care. There was a border of dark leaves around the outside, and some tender shoots springing up at irregular intervals. But through the centre of the plot there was springing up some tender green shoots different from the rest, and Norine dropped on her knees with a little scream of delight, for there, just discernible above the dark ground, in the tenderest of tender green leaves, was her own name--Norine. Her eyes became suspiciously moist at the sight of this, and her breast heaved a little.