around Isabel's hat; it is so pretty, I'm sure Mrs. Farnham will not
mind?"

"Put it anywhere you like," cried the kind man, holding on to a branch
of the bitter-sweet, and swinging himself downward till the ash bent
almost double. It rushed back to its place, casting off a shower of
loose berries and leaves that rattled around the girls in red and
golden rain. Directly Mr. Sharp was by them once more, gathering up a
handful of gooseberry branches, bitter-sweet and ash, admiring Mary's
wreath at the same time.

"Come, now for a scramble down the hill," he cried. "Here, let me go
first, for we may all expect a precious blessing, and I fancy my
shoulders are the broadest."

The children looked at each other and the smiles left their lips. The
"blessing," with which he so carelessly threatened them was enough to
quench all their gay spirits, and they crept on after their benefactor
with clouded faces.

"See, Mrs. Farnham, see what a world of beautiful things we have found
for you up the mountain," cried Mr. Sharp, throwing two or three
branches through the carriage window. "The little folks have
discovered wonders among the bush--don't you think so?"

Mrs. Farnham drew back and gathered her ample skirts nervously about
her.

"What on earth have the creatures brought? Bitter-sweet, gooseberries,
with thorns like darning needles! Why, Mr. Sharp, what can you mean by