A mile away, in a farmhouse on a height over-looking the little town of Hadley, another earnest soul knelt in prayer: "Lord, help me to put her out of my thoughts. If this is allowed by Thee as discipline, make me willing to bear it. Lord, help me, but Thou knowest how much I loved her!" and a sob, which would have broken his mother's heart if she had heard it, escaped from Stephen Collins as he looked forward into the future. At the foot of the same hill, in the back parlour of a thriving shop, a young fellow was counting his day's takings, and when he had finished, he drew his chair up to the fire to think things over. "Steve Collins thought he was sure of her, I know he did; but I got the start of him for once. I wonder if Phebe's father is really well off! I have got on very well so far, but it is slow work in this sleepy place." * * * * * The gardener pegs some of his plants down to the ground: some he places by a south wall, some in open spaces where the north wind has free access. He has a purpose with each, and whatever he does is for their "making." CHAPTER II THE HOME-COMING "I say, mother, they've come!" "Well, let them. What do I care?" "Oh, but just come and look a minute. See how carefully he is helping her out of the cab. She's a sight too good for him. There! I've got a brilliant idea. I'll go and give them a tune. She shall enter her bridal home to the strains of music," and away downstairs Miss Bessie Marchant rushed. She was the daughter of Mr. Marchant, chemist, Ralph Waring's neighbour. "What is that girl playing?" exclaimed Mrs. Marchant a few minutes afterwards, as she was preparing supper in the kitchen. Phill Marchant was sitting at the table working out a sum on his slate. "Why, it's the 'Dead March.' Is her kitten dead?" "That girl will be the death of me. Bessie, do you hear, stop that noise, will you? Haven't you one spark of human kindness left?" "No, mother," still going on playing, "I gave all the sparks to Phill." "Stop playing, will you? or I'll box your ears! It's perfectly cruel. The poor thing will have enough to put up with, without you worrying her with that bad omen." Bessie suddenly stopped, not because she was afraid of her ears being boxed, but deep down in her heart, where a good big piece of human kindness was thriving splendidly, in spite of her mother's fears, questionings had arisen lest she might not be defeating her own object. "I don't want to worry her; you know that. It is a funny world to live in if you cannot play the 'Dead March' when you like!" "You just march off and water the plants in the greenhouse, and don't interfere with what isn't your business." "All right, but I'll----" What exactly Miss Bessie was going still further to do, her mother did not catch, and it was not Miss Bessie's intention that she should.