The first thing Maurice did, after showing his tulip-roots to his father, was to run to Arthur’s garden in search of him. Their gardens were separated only by a low wall of loose stones: “Arthur! Arthur! where are you? Are you in your garden! I want you.” But Arthur made no answer, and did not, as usual, come running to meet his friend. “I know where you are,” continued Maurice, “and I’m coming to you as fast as the raspberry-bushes will let me. I have good news for you—something you’ll be delighted to see, Arthur!—Ha!—but here is something that I am not delighted to see, I am sure,” said poor Maurice, who, when he had got through the raspberry-bushes, and had come in sight of his own garden, beheld his bell-glass—his beloved bell-glass, under which his cucumbers were grown so finely—his only bell-glass, broken to pieces! “I am sorry for it,” said Arthur, who stood leaning upon his spade in his own garden; “I am afraid you will be very angry with me.” “Why, was it you, Arthur, broke my bell-glass! Oh, how could you do so?” “I was throwing weeds and rubbish over the wall, and by accident a great lump of couch-grass, with stones hanging to the roots, fell upon your bell-glass, and broke it, as you see.” Maurice lifted up the lump of couch-grass, which had fallen through the broken glass upon his cucumbers, and he looked at his cucumbers for a moment in silence—“Oh, my poor cucumbers! you must all die now. I shall see all your yellow flowers withered to-morrow; but it is done, and it cannot be helped; so, Arthur, let us say no more about it.” “You are very good; I thought you would have been angry. I am sure I should have been exceedingly angry if you had broken the glass, if it had been mine.” “Oh, forgive and forget, as my father always says; that’s the best way. Look what I have got for you.” Then he told Arthur the story of the captain of the ship, and the china jar; the seeds having been thrown down, and of the fine tulip-roots which had been given to him; and Maurice concluded by offering one of the precious roots to Arthur, who thanked him with great joy, and repeatedly said, “How good you were not to be angry with me for breaking your bell-glass! I am much more sorry for it than if you had been in a passion with me!” Arthur now went to plant his tulip-root: and Maurice looked at the beds which his companion had been digging, and at all the things which were coming up in his garden.