graveyard, and Edward began to dig, Hazel sitting on the grass and
evidently making suggestions. With the quickness of jealousy, Reddin
knew that Edward was making a garden for Hazel. It enraged him.

'I could have made her a garden, and a deal better than that!' he
thought. 'She could have had half an acre of the garden at Undern; I
could have it made in no time.'

He uttered an exclamation of contempt. 'The way he fools with that
spade! He's never dug in his life.'

Before long Hazel brought out the bird-cage and hung it in the sun. And
surprisingly, almost alarmingly, the ancient bird began to sing. It was
like hearing an old man sing a love-song. The bird sat there, rough and
purblind, and chanted youth with the magic of a master.

Hazel and Edward stood still to hear it, holding each other's hands.

'He's ne'er said a word afore,' breathed Hazel. 'Eh! but he likes the
Mountain!'

In the little warm garden with Hazel, among the thick daisies, with the
mirth of the once desolate ringing in his ears, Edward knew perfect
happiness.

He stood looking at Hazel, his eyes dark with love. She seemed to
blossom in the quiet day. He stooped and kissed her hand.

To Reddin in his deep shadow every action was clear, for they stood in
the sunlight. He ground the sorrel into the earth. After a time Martha