and his spirit was occasionally permitted to view the world through me,
the "fancy gardening" in which I so extensively indulged could scarcely
have been congenial to his tastes. The eye was the salient point,
however, of a countenance not otherwise noticeable, except from a
girlish habit I had of coloring whenever I was suddenly addressed.

When I reached Hillside, I rang the bell with some trepidation, which
was increased by the announcement of the servant that the ladies were at
the tea-table. This trifling annoyance of presenting myself at the
tea-hour, when expected to pass the evening, was sufficiently serious to
my awkwardness to threaten my enjoyment of the visit; but I had scarcely
seated myself in the library when Miss Darry appeared.

"I hoped you would be in doubt as to the hour of coming, Sandy, and get
here early," she said, smiling brightly. "You must let me thank you for
painting that picture for me to look at; I even admired the little white
hand of your plebeian friend, it was so charmingly done."

I could not be annoyed at this mingling of praise and badinage,
especially when she relieved me from all sense of intrusion. Moreover,
she looked so brilliant, so sparkling and happy, that I watched her,
amazed at the metamorphosis from her ordinarily calm, intellectual
conversation and plain appearance.

"I thought perhaps you would keep the picture to please me, Miss Darry,"
I faltered, feeling that I was presenting it to an entirely new
character.

She accepted it, however, most graciously, and led me into the
conservatory, that I might assist her in arranging some baskets of
flowers for the parlor-tables.

"I never did believe in conservatories," she exclaimed, as I expressed
my admiration of the many rare plants. "It is as unnatural a life for
flowers to be crowded together, each in its little pot of earth, as for
human beings in their separate beds in a hospital. The idea of shutting
up plants and pictures in a room by themselves, to be visited on state
occasions, or when some member of the family in a vagrant mood chances
unexpectedly among them, seems to me preposterous."

Meanwhile she ran in and out among the flower-stands, breaking off
branches of flame-colored azalea, creamy, voluptuous-looking callas, and
a variety of drooping blossoms and sprays of green, with a reckless
handling of their proud beauty, which I involuntarily contrasted with
Annie Bray's timid, half-caressing touch of the