piece of fancy work grew rapidly in her deft hands.

Toward evening she started out for a walk, but uttered an exclamation
of surprise as she saw the flower-borders were bright with verbenas,
heliotrope, geraniums, and other bedding plants. Roger's buggy
stood near, containing two large empty boxes, and he was just raking
the beds smooth once more in order to finish his task.

"Why, Mr. Atwood!" she cried, "it has long seemed to me that a good
fairy was at work around the house, but this is a master-stroke."

"If you are pleased I am well repaid," he replied, the color
deepening on his sunburned cheeks.

"If I am pleased?" she repeated in surprise, and with a faint
answering color. "Why, all will be pleased, especially your mother
and Susan."

"No doubt, but I thought these would look more like what you have
been accustomed to."

"Really, Mr. Atwood, I hope you have not put yourself to all this
trouble on my account."

"I have not put myself to any trouble. But you are in trouble, Miss
Jocelyn, and perhaps these flowers may enliven you a little."

"I did not expect such kindness, such thoughtfulness. I do not see
that I am entitled to so much consideration," she said hesitatingly,
at the same time fixing on him a penetrating glance.