some, and she, considering them as mere wild flowers, said I
might have as many as I liked. She might have thought I wanted
simply the blossoms, but the next morning I went over to my house
with a basket filled with great matted masses of the plants taken
up with the roots and plenty of earth around them, and after
twenty minutes' work in my own bed of pinks, I had taken out all
the old plants and filled their places with fresh, luxuriant
masses of buds and leaves and blossoms. How glad she would be
when she saw the fresh life that had come to that flower-bed!
With light footsteps I went away, not feeling the weight of the
basket filled with the old plants and roots.

The summer grew and strengthened, and the sun rose earlier,
but as that had no effect upon the rising of the present
inhabitants of my place, it gave me more time for my morning
pursuits. Gradually I constituted myself the regular flower-
gardener of the premises. How delightful the work was, and how
foolish I thought I had been never to think of doing this thing
for myself! but no doubt it was because I was doing it for her
that I found it so pleasant.

Once again I had seen Miss Vincent. It was in the afternoon,
and I had rowed myself to the upper part of the lake, where, with
the high hills and the trees on each side of me, I felt as if I
were alone in the world. Floating, idly along, with my thoughts
about three miles away, I heard the sound of oars, and looking
out on the open part of the lake, I saw a boat approaching. The
miller was rowing, and in the stern sat an elderly gentleman and
a young lady. I knew them in an instant: they were Mr. and Miss
Vincent.