Bel blushed. She had been a little frightened in the morning to think of what had happened over night. She could not quite recollect all the words of her verses, and she wondered if they were really as pretty as she had fancied in the moment of making them. All she could answer was that Mrs. Scherman was "very kind." "Then you'll trust me?" And Bel, wondering very much, but too shy to question, said she would. A few days after that, Asenath called her up-stairs. The postman had rung five minutes before, and Kate had carried up a note. "We were just in time with our little spring song," she said. "_Blue_birds have to sing early; at least a month beforehand. See here! Is this all right?" and she put into Bel's hand a little roughish slip of paper, upon which was printed:-- "THE CITY IN SPRING. "It is not much that makes me glad: I hold more than I ever had. The empty hand may farther reach, And small, sweet signs all beauty teach. "I like the city in the spring, It has a hint of everything. Down in the yard I like to see The budding of that single tree. "The little sparrows on the shed; The scrap of soft sky overhead; The cat upon the sunny wall; There's so much _meant_ among them all. "The dandelion in the cleft A broken pavement may have left, Is like the star that, still and sweet, Shines where the house-tops almost meet. "I like a little; all the rest Is somewhere; and our Lord knows best How the whole robe hath grace for them Who only touch the garment's hem." At the bottom, in small capitals, was the signature,--BEL BREE. "I don't understand," said Bel, bewildered. "What is it? Who did it?" "It is a proof," said Mrs. Scherman. "A proof-sheet. And here is another kind of proof that came with it. Your spring song is going into the May number of 'First and Last.'" Mrs. Scherman reached out a slip of paper, printed and filled in. It was a publisher's check for fifteen dollars. "You see I'm very unselfish, Bel," she said. "I'm going to work the very way to lose you." Bel's eyes flashed up wide at her. The way to lose her! Why, nobody had ever got such a hold upon her before! The printed verses and the money were wonderful surprises, but they were not the surprise that had gone straight into her heart, and dropped a grapple there. Mrs. Scherman had believed in her; and she had _kissed_ her. Bel Bree would never forget that, though she should live to sing songs of all the years. "When you can earn money like this, of course I cannot expect to keep you in my kitchen," said Mrs. Scherman, answering her look.