She returned to the room now, and with a few deft touches, a turn and
a twist or two, she moved the little bed and the bits of furniture
out of their usual positions, and into some they had never occupied
before. "Now it won't remind him so much," she said softly to
herself, "it looks quite different," and she went out leaving door
and window wide, for the sun and the soft breeze to play through.

With this new joy and the music she carried in her heart, her hands
and feet flew through their work, so that by three o'clock the
spotless stairs were scrubbed, and the neat kitchen made even neater,
and Patience herself was ready to change her gown and put herself
tidy.

Thomas was still busy in the garden. She did not know what about,
but soon after she had gone up to her room she heard him calling her.

"What is it, father?" she called back. "I am up-stairs."

"I--I've got a little rose-bush that I've been bringing on in a pot,
I--I thought," he concluded shyly, "I--thought the little maid would
fancy it, perhaps, in her room."

A mist of tears dimmed Patience's eyes for a moment. "Bless his dear
old heart," she said to herself softly, "how he thinks of
everything." Aloud, she said heartily, "Why, of course she would,
father. She'd be sure to love it, a real plant of her own! Will you
put it up there, on the window-ledge? I've got my dress off, and I
can't come for a minute," she added casually, in a tone very
different from the eagerness with which she listened to hear if he
did so.