st they discovered, with hearts as
eagerly throbbing as those of the explorers of some new country, the
gardens, the real Temple Gardens! The chrysanthemums were in full
blossom, with all their varied tints, delicate and rich, glowing under
the brightness of the noontide sun; and Robin and Meg stood still,
transfixed and silent, too full of an excess of happiness to speak.

'Oh, Meg, what is it? what is it?' cried Robin at last, with
outstretched hands, as if he would fain gather them all into his arms.
'Is it gardens, Meg? Is this Temple Gardens?'

Meg could not answer at first, but she held Robin back from the
flowers. She did not feel quite at home in this strange, sweet, sunny
place; and she peeped in cautiously through the half-open iron gate
before entering. There were a few other children there, with their
nursemaids, but she felt there was some untold difference between her
and them. But Robin's delight had given him courage, and he rushed in
tumultuously, running along the smooth walks in an ecstasy of joy; and
Meg could do nothing else but follow. Presently, as nobody took any
notice of her, she gave herself up to the gladness of the hour, and
toiled up and down, under the weight of the baby, wherever Robin wished
to go, until he consented to rest a little while upon a seat which
faced the river, where they could see the boats pass by. This was the
happiest moment to Meg. She thought of her father's ship coming up the
river, bringing him home to her and the children; and she had almost
lost the recollection of where she was, when Robin, who had been very
quiet for some time, pulled her by the shawl.

'Look, Meg,' he whispered.

He pointed to a seat not far from them, where sat a lady, in a bright
silk dress, and a velvet bonnet with a long rich feather across it.
There were two children with her, a girl of Meg's age, and a boy about
as big as Robin, dressed like a little Highlander, with a kilt of many
colours, and a silver-mounted pouch, and a dirk, which he was
brandishing about before his mother, who looked on, laughing fondly and
proudly at her boy. Meg gazed, too, until she heard Robin sob, and
turning quickly to him, she saw the tears rolling quickly down his
sorrowful face. 'Nobody laughs to me, Meg,' said Robin.

'Oh yes, Robbie, I laugh to you,' cried Meg; 'and father 'll laugh when
he comes home to-morrow; and maybe God laughs to us, only we can't see
His face.'

'I'd like to go home