Lunch over, it suddenly occurred to him he might as well go to the works as sit by the fire reading a newspaper. Maybe there was a little hope somewhere in his heart that he might get a spice of enjoyment out of the fun going on. But in all that gathering there was no more attentive listener than Hugh Black, the contractor. He stayed till the little party started on its homeward journey, and then stood where he could watch them. "I say, Greaves," turning to the ganger, "yonder little woman is plucky, if you like. There's not many who would have won that lot of fellows as she has done this afternoon. And didn't she hold them! I never heard or saw anything like it in my life before. What brought her here, do you suppose?" Greaves muttered something about not knowing. "There's no money in it, that's certain; and it cannot be for popularity among her set, for I should think a good many folks would blame her for it." "I know what my missis would say there was in it," the ganger plucked up courage enough to say. "And what's that?" still with eyes fixed on the tricycle, held on either side the handle-bar by Dick and the fresh addition to the party. "She'd say as how it was to please God." "H'm." Then turning sharply round to the ganger, he exclaimed, "I say, Greaves; do you profess to be religious?" The ganger grew very red. "Not like she is," pointing towards Phebe. "I thought not. If you had, it would have come out before now. Well, I shall not soon forget that little woman." * * * * * As an earthly flower grows towards perfection its progress is of no help whatever to any other blossom. Even its fragrance, scattered so lavishly on the air, adds nothing to the perfume of another. Flowers of the Kingdom know nothing of this isolation--can know nothing. The growth of each in grace aids the growth of others. CHAPTER XVIII HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR Late one night Bessie took her favourite low seat close by the fire, and closer still to Phebe, occupying the same position Phebe did in her confidences with Nanna. "What's the matter, Bessie, dear?" Phebe was very quick to note any change in Bessie's manner, and try as she might Bessie never could hide her feelings. "I don't know how it is," said Bessie, with a sigh, "but try as I may I can't get on with mother," and then there came something like a sob. "Is there any fresh trouble?" "Yesterday was mother's birthday," went on Bessie, in a low voice, "so I thought I would give her a little present; it's ever so long since I've done so. I bought a brooch--I could not afford a gold one--and when I gave it her--she said she never wore sham jewellery----" Bessie's voice was too choked to go on any further. "Poor old girl!" said Phebe tenderly, taking hold of her hand; "never mind, you must keep on trying; love-work often goes slowly at first. You'll see, she will wear that brooch on Sunday, mark my words."