John, who is a staunch church-goer, and by no means irreverently inclined, is instantly imbued with a deeper reverence than ever for parsons, and says apologetically, "Tis not making fun of them, miss, to liken them to flowers. If I was to liken them to medicine bottles, now, with the white labels tied round their necks, 'twould be different; but I wouldn't go so far as that." Nelly Marston laughs, the likeness of medicine bottles to the clergy is so clearly apparent. "It is a long stretch either way, John. I must go in now. Don't forget to pick me a bunch of lords-and-ladies!" "I'll not forget, miss." The happy young gardener touches his cap, and walks away with a blithe heart, to search at once among the hedges for this particular species of the arum. Be sure that none but the very finest specimens will meet with his approval. From this day forth the cuckoo-pint holds a curiously-tender place in his memory, and the season "When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks, all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight," never comes round without bringing with it a vision of himself and a fair and beautiful girl by the old house at Springfield, she with white lilies and cuckoo flowers in her hands, and he standing before her, with a heart pulsing with love and adoration. Nelly Marston would have stopped a longer time conversing with him, had she not seen a maid approaching her from the house to summon her to Lady Temple's room. "I have been waiting for you, Miss Marston," says the sick lady, in a peevish tone, as the girl enters, "and wondering where you were. What have you in your hand? Flowers! Send them away. You know I am expressly forbidden to have flowers about me. Stay. What are they? Don't bring them too close." "Only a few lilies of the valley, Lady Temple, that the gardener's son gave me." "And you have some in your hair, too--that the gardener's son gave you! And those other flowers, the yellow ones?" "This is the cuckoo flower--the cuckoo pint, rather. Lords-and-ladies, he called it." "And that's why you choose it, I suppose. So you have been gossiping with the gardener's son! You are like your mother, I am afraid." "My mother, Lady Temple," says the girl proudly, straightening her slight figure, "during her lifetime, always spoke of you with respect and affection. I shall be glad if you will explain the meaning of your words--if they have a meaning." "There, there, don't worry me, Miss Marston. I am not strong enough for scenes. It seems to be a bright morning." "It is very fresh and lovely out of doors. Spring is come in real earnest. The apple-blossoms look beautiful----"