"You're very good," murmured the woman, still standing in the doorway.

"Your flowers are so pretty," ventured Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the
wistfulness out of her voice.

"Do you think so?" carelessly; "I s'pose they need weedin'. What with my
babies an' all, I don't get much time for posies."

"Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to let me come an' putter
around in the beds?" queried the little woman eagerly. "Oh, I would like
it so much!"

The other laughed heartily.

"Well, I really don't see how it's goin' to trouble me to have you
weedin' my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would be on the
other foot." Then the red showed in her face a little. "You're welcome
to do whatever you want, Mis' Gray."

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Emily, as she quickly pulled up an enormous
weed at her feet.

It took but a few hours' work to bring about a wonderfully happy change
in that forlorn garden, and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile
of weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion of them, she
started to go behind the house in search of a garbage heap. Around the
corner she came face to face with her husband, hoe in hand.

"Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are you doing?"