ospects which old Nancy painted for her, but when
she was gone Nancy turned to her work again with a heavy heart.

CHAPTER VI.

_NANCY'S PHILOSOPHY._

Nancy McVeigh was in her garden behind the tavern when young John Keene
called on her for the first time since his return from Chicago, after
two years' absence from the homely atmosphere of the Monk Road.

Nancy's garden was a source of great enjoyment to her, and many happy
hours she spent within the enclosure, which old Donald had built so
securely that not even a chick could trespass to harm the sprouting
seeds. Early spring saw her with tucked-up skirt, a starched
sun-bonnet on her head, and hoe or rake in her hand, availing herself
of every quiet hour in the day to plant and mark out the beds. Then
followed a ceaseless watchfulness, throughout the hot summer, to
regulate the watering and weeding, interspersed with pleasant
speculation as to the results, and in the later months her well-merited
boastings over her success.

She was picking beans for the dinner, and incidentally noting the
progress of her early vegetables, when Katie Duncan ushered young John
Keene through the tavern to the rear door and into the garden.

"At your old tricks, Mistress McVeigh," the new-comer called, cheerily,
as he advanced with out-stretched hand.

"Well, bless me soul, Johnny!" she exclaimed, rising and kissing him
with motherly blindness to his manly appearance. "I heard yesterday
that ye had returned. Mrs. Conors told me, an' she said ye might be
takin' a wife before ye leave. She's a rare gossip, that body, an'
knows a thing a'most before it happens," Nancy added, in an explanatory
way.

"As if you didn't know that yourself," young John answered, laughing.

"The two years went by so quick like, that I scarce felt the loss o'
ye. Faith, an' the older one gets the shorter the days, it seems. The
garden's lookin' promisin'," she observed, inviting his opinion.

"Splendid!" he replied, giving it a hasty scrutiny.

"I've beans, an' radishes, an' new potatoes already, an' the cucumbers
and corn'll be fit to pick in a week," Nancy said, proudly. Then she
remembered her hospitality.

"We'll go in the house, fer it's not a very clean place fer ye to be
wi' all yer fine clothes."

"I'd rather we just sit down on those two chairs by the porch and have
a good talk," he suggested. They seated themselves in the shade, for
the morning sun was very warm, and young J