often asked for her, and now they'll have enough of her, I think. But I
can't have her back here just yet; and so the best I can do for her is
to leave her where she is. Mrs. Hamley seems very fond of her, and the
child is looking happy, and stronger in health. I'll ride round by
Hamley to-day at any rate, and see how the land lies.'

He found Mrs. Hamley lying on a sofa placed under the shadow of the
great cedar-tree on the lawn. Molly was flitting about her, gardening
away under her directions; tying up the long sea-green stalks of bright
budded carnations, snipping off dead roses.

'Oh! here's papa!' she cried out joyfully, as he rode up to the white
paling which separated the trim lawn and trimmer flower-garden from the
rough park-like ground in front of the house.

'Come in--come here--through the drawing-room window,' said Mrs Hamley,
raising herself on her elbow. 'We've got a rose-tree to show you that
Molly has budded all by herself. We are both so proud of it.'

So Mr. Gibson rode round to the stables, left his horse there, and made
his way through the house to the open-air summer-parlour under the
cedar-tree, where there were chairs, a table, books, and tangled work.
Somehow, he rather disliked asking for Molly to prolong her visit; so
he determined to swallow his bitter first, and then take the pleasure
of the delicious day, the sweet repose, the murmurous, scented air.
Molly stood by him, her hand on his shoulder. He sate opposite to Mrs.
Hamley.

'I have come here to-day to ask for a favour,' he began.