s, there were
flowers enough in the beds, and among the shrubs, to make the spring air
fresh with a faint, sweet odor. But here too was Anice in her soft white
merino dress, with her basket of flowers, with the blue bells at her
belt, and her half audible song. She struck Joan Lowrie with a new
sense of beauty and purity. As she watched her she grew
discontented--restless--sore at heart. She could not have told why, but
she felt a certain anger against herself. She had had a hard day. Things
had gone wrong at the pit's mouth; things had gone wrong at home. It
was hard for her strong nature to bear with Liz's weakness. Her path was
never smooth, but to-day it had been at its roughest. The little song
fell upon her ear with strong pathos.

"She's inside o' th' hedge," she said to herself in a dull voice. "I'm
outside, theer's th' difference. It a'most looks loike the hedge went
aw' around an' she'd been born among th' flowers, and theer's no way out
for her--no more than theer's a way in fur me."

Then it was that Anice turned round and saw her. Their eyes met,
and, singularly enough, Anice's first thought was that this was Joan.
Derrick's description made her sure. There were not two such women in
Riggan. She made her decision in a moment. She stepped across the grass
to the hedge with a ready smile.

"You were looking at my flowers," she said. "Will you have some?"

Joan hesitated.

"I often give them to people," said Anice, taking a handful from the
basket and offering them to her across the holly. "When the men come
home from the mines they often ask me for two or three, and I think they
like them even better than I do--though that is saying a great deal."

Joan held out her hand, and took the flowers, holding them awkwardly,
but with tenderness.

"Oh, thank yo'," she said. "It's kind o' yo' to gi' 'em away."

"It's a pleasure to me," said Anice, picking out a delicate pink
hyacinth. "Here's a hyacinth." Then as Joan took it their eyes met. "Are
you Joan Lowrie?" asked the girl.

Joan lifted her head.

"Aye," she answered, "I'm Joan Lowrie."

"Ah," said Anice, "then I am very glad."

They stood on the same level from that moment. Something as
indescribable as all else in her manner, had done for Anice just what
she had simply and seriously desired to do. Proud and stubborn as her
nature was, Joan was subdued. The girl's air and speech were like her
song. She stood inside the hedge still, in her white dr