Rotha obeyed, wondering and thankful. The woman was entirely changed towards her; abrupt and unconventional, certainly, in manner and address, but nevertheless shewing real care and kindness; and shewing moreover what a very handsome woman she could be. Her smile was frank and sweet; her face when at rest very striking for its fine contour; and her figure was stately. Moreover, she was an uncommonly good cook; so that the viands, though plain, were made both wholesome and appetizing. In that respect Rotha did not suffer; the exclusive companionship of two such ignorant and unrefined persons was a grievance on the other hand which pressed harder every day. She kept herself busy. When her dresses were done, she began to spend hours a day out of doors. The sweet things in the flower borders which were choked and hindered by wild growth and weeds, moved her sympathy; she got a hoe and rake and fork from Mr. Purcell and set about a systematic clearing of the ground. It was a spacious curve from one gate to the other; and all the way went the flower border at one side of the road, and all the way on the other side, except where the house came in. Rotha could do but a little piece a day; but the beauty and pleasantness of that lured her on to spend as much time in the work as she could match with the necessary strength. It was so pretty to see the flowers in good circumstances again! Here a sweet Scotch rose, its graceful growth covered with wild-looking, fair blossoms; here a bed of lily of the valley; close by a carpet of lovely moss pink, which when cleared of encumbering weedy growth that half hid it, fairly greeted Rotha like a smile whenever she went out. And periwinkle also ran in a carpet over the ground, green with purple stars; daffodils were passing away, but pleasant yet to see; and little tufts of polyanthus and here and there a red tulip shewed now in all their delicate beauty, scarcely seen before. Hypericum came out gloriously, when an intrusive and overgrown lilac bush was cut away; and syringa was almost as good as jessamine, Rotha thought; little red poppies began to lift their slender heads, and pansies appeared, and June roses were getting ready to bloom. And as long as Rotha could busy herself in the garden work, she was happy; she forgot all that she had to trouble her; even when Prissy Purcell came out to see and criticise what was going on. "What are you doin' all that for?" the latter asked one day, after standing some time watching Rotha's work. "Are you thinkin' Mis' Busby'll come by and by?" "My aunt? No indeed!" said Rotha looking up with a flush. "I have no idea when I shall see my aunt again; and certainly I do not expect to see her here." "Somebody else, then?" "Why no! There is nobody to come." "Didn't you never have a beau?" said Prissy Purcell, stooping down and speaking lower. "A _what?_" said Rotha turning to her.