at her feet; she was crying sadly, with even audible sobs. She made a long
job of her bunch of holly. But when at last it must come to an end she
choked back her tears, smoothed her face, and came back to Mr. Ringgan
smiling and springing over the stones and shrubs in her way, and
exclaiming at the beauty of her vegetable stores. If her cheeks were red
he thought it was the flush of pleasure and exercise, and she did not let
him get a good look at her eyes.

"Why you've got enough to dress up the front room chimney," said he.
"That'll be the best thing you can do with 'em, won't it?"

"The front room chimney! No, indeed I won't, grandpa. I don't want 'em
where nobody can see them, and you know we are never in there now it is
cold weather."

"Well, dear! anyhow you like to have it. But you ha'n't a jar in the house
big enough for them, have you?"

"O I'll manage--I've got an old broken pitcher without a handle, grandpa,
that'll do very well."

"A broken pitcher! that isn't a very elegant vase," said he.

"O you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it. I'll cover up
all the broken part with green, you know. Are we going home now, grandpa?"

"No, I want to stop a minute at uncle Joshua's."

Uncle Joshua was a brother-in-law of Mr. Ringgan, a substantial farmer and
very well to do in the world! He was found not in the house but abroad in