rely remembered
as having done his duty in leaving his widow "comfortable." People
were left to speculate as they chose about the amount represented by
the expression. It would not have been good for the man or woman who
had ventured to ask a direct question on the subject, but everybody
agreed that Mrs. Crook must have something handsome. Surely
"comfortable" means free from care, both as regards to-day and
to-morrow: not only enough, but a little more, or else anxiety might
step in and spoil comfort. If Mrs. Crook had more than enough, she
took care not to give of her abundance. Neither man, woman nor child
was ever the better for the surplus, if such there were. One of her
favorite expressions was, "I don't care for much neighboring; I prefer
keeping myself to myself."

"And you keep every thing else to yourself," muttered one who had
vainly tried to enlist her sympathy for another who was in sickness
and trouble.

Mrs. Crook had a pretty garden, well-stocked with flowers, according
to the season. She was fond of working in it, and might be seen there
daily, with her sun-bonnet on, snipping, tying and tending her plants.

Children do so love flowers, and, thank God, those who live in country
places have grand gardens to roam in, free to all, and planted by His
own loving hand. But in town it is different, and Mrs. Crook lived
just outside one; far enough away from its smoke to allow of
successful gardening, not too far to prevent little feet from
wandering thither from narrow courts and alleys, to breathe a purer
air, and gaze, with longing eyes, at the fair blossoms. It always
irritated Mrs. Crook to see these dirty, unkempt little creatures
clustering around her gate, or peeping through her hedge.

"What do you want here?" she would ask, sharply. "Get away with you,
or I will send for a policeman. You are peeping about to see if you
can pick up something; I know you are. Be off, without any more
telling!"

The light of pleasure called into the young eyes by the sight of the
flowers would fade away, and the hopeful look leave the dirty faces,
as Mrs. Crook's harsh words fell on the children's ears. But as they
turned away with unwilling, lingering steps, heads would be stretched,
and a wistful, longing gaze cast upon the coveted flowers, until they
were quite lost to sight.

There was a tradition amongst the youngsters that a very small child
had once called, through the bars of the gate: "P'ease, Missis, do