social popularity, her professional success, the love and
admiration she had won already.

The Old Lady never dreamed of revealing herself to Sylvia.
That, in her poverty, was not to be thought of for a moment.
It would have been very sweet to know her--sweet to have her
come to the old house--sweet to talk to her--to enter into her
life. But it might not be. The Old Lady's pride was still far
stronger than her love. It was the one thing she had never
sacrificed and never--so she believed--could sacrifice.



II. The June Chapter


There were no Mayflowers in June; but now the Old Lady's
garden was full of blossoms and every morning Sylvia found a
bouquet of them by the beech--the perfumed ivory of white
narcissus, the flame of tulips, the fairy branches of
bleeding-heart, the pink-and-snow of little, thorny, single,
sweetbreathed early roses. The Old Lady had no fear of
discovery, for the flowers that grew in her garden grew in
every other Spencervale garden as well, including the Stewart
garden. Chris Stewart, when he was teased about the music
teacher, merely smiled and held his peace. Chris knew
perfectly well who was the real giver of those flowers. He had
made it his business to find out when the Mayflower gossip
started. But since it was evident Old Lady Lloyd did not wish
it to be known, Chris told no one. Chris had always liked Old