ent to plant with anything that could be
abstracted, was a pretty slope with the irregular willow shadows swept
over it, thin, but still presenting a pale obstruction to the flood of
sunshine on this special afternoon. There a little group was collected,
in full enjoyment of the warmth and the light. Mrs Rider, still faded,
but no longer travel-worn, sat farther up in the garden, on the green
bench, which had been softened with cushions for her use, leisurely
working at some piece of needlework, in lonely possession of the
chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies round her; while on the grass,
dropped over with yellow flecks of willow-leaves, lightly loosened by
every passing touch of wind, sat Nettie, all brown and bright, working
with the most rapid fingers at a child's frock, and "minding" with a
corner of her eye the possessor of the same, the tiny Freddy, an imp of
mischief uncontrollable by other hand or look than hers. A little lower
down, poking into the invisible brook through the paling, was the eldest
boy, silent from sheer delight in the unexpected pleasure of coating
himself with mud without remark from Nettie. This unprecedented escape
arose from the fact that Nettie had a visitor, a lady who had bent down
beside her in a half-kneeling attitude, and was contemplating her with
a mingled amaze and pity which intensified the prevailing expression
of kindness in the mildest face in the world. It was Miss Wodehouse, in
her soft dove-coloured dress and large soft checked shawl. Her mild eyes
were fixed upon that brilliant brown creature, all buoyant and sparkling
with youth. These wonderful young people perplexed Miss Wodehouse; here
was another incomprehensible specimen--most incomprehensible perhaps of
all that had ever crossed her mild elderly horizon with bewildering
unintelligible light.

"My dear," said Miss Wodehouse, "things used to be very different
when I was young. When we were girls we thought about our own
pleasures--and--and vanities of all kinds," said the good woman, with a
little sigh; "and, indeed, I can't think it is natural still to see you
devoting yourself like this to your sister's family. It is wonderful;
but dear, dear me! it isn't natural, Nettie, such self-devotion."

"I do wish you wouldn't speak!" said Nettie, with a sudden
start--"self-devotion! stuff! I am only doing what must be done. Freddy
can't go on wearing one frock for ever, can he--does it stand to reason?
Would you have me s