d to go, Jessamine could only accept the shelter
offered by her brother, John Stacy, who did business in the city.

Of her stylish sister-in-law Jessamine was absolutely in awe. At first
Mrs. John was by no means pleased at the necessity of taking a country
sister into her family circle. But one day, when the servant girl took
a tantrum and left, Mrs. John found it very convenient to have in the
house a person who could step into Eliza's place as promptly and
efficiently as Jessamine could.

Indeed, she found it so convenient that Eliza never had a successor.
Jessamine found herself in the position of maid-of-all-work and
kitchen drudge for board and clothes.

She never complained, but she grew thinner and paler as the winter
went by. She had worked as hard on the farm, but it was the close
confinement and weary routine that told on her. Mrs. John was exacting
and querulous. John was absorbed in his business worries and had no
time to waste on his sister. Now, when the summer had come, her
homesickness was almost unbearable.

The next day Mr. Bell came he handed her a big bunch of sweet-brier
roses.

"Here you are," he said heartily. "I took the liberty to bring you
these today, seeing you're so fond of posies. The country roads are
pink with them now. Why don't you get your husband to bring you out
for a drive some day? You'd be as welcome as a lark at my farm."

"I will when he comes along, but I haven't seen him yet."

Mr. Bell gave a prolonged whistle. "Excuse me. I thought you were Mrs.
Something-or-other for sure. Aren't you mistress here?"

"Oh, no. My brother's wife is the mistress here. I'm only Jessamine."

She laughed again. She was holding the roses against her face, and her
eyes sparkled over them roguishly. The vegetable-man looked at her
admiringly.

"You're a country rose yourself, miss, and you ought to be blooming
out in the fields, instead of wilting in here."

"I wish I was. Thank you so much for the roses, Mr. ---- Mr. ----"

"Bell--Andrew Bell, that's my name. I live out at Pine Pastures. We're
all Bells out there--can't throw a stone without hitting one. Glad you
like the roses."

After that the vegetable-man brought Jessamine a bouquet every trip.
Now it was a big bunch of field-daisies or golden buttercups, now a
green glory of spicy ferns, now a cluster of old-fashioned garden
flowers.

"They keep life in me," Jessamine told him.

They were great friends by this time. True, s