stones. Bella went to bed that night very tired and
very happy, and dreamed of her mother.

While the children lay asleep, their father, coming home late and taking a
turn round his neglected garden while he finished his pipe, drew up before
the little herb-bed with almost a startled look on his face. He stood
there minute after minute, gazing at the newly-turned earth and the sturdy
little bushes showing out so clearly in the moonlight; the one neat and
hopeful spot in the whole untidy waste, it seemed almost to speak
reproachingly to him.

What his thoughts were no one knew, but he sighed deeply more than once,
and when at last he moved away his pipe had gone out, though it was not
empty.

CHAPTER IV.

SAGE BUSHES AND ROSE BUSHES.

The next morning William Hender was more than usually silent at breakfast,
and he went off to his work without making any reference to what he had
seen in the garden over-night. The children's thoughts, though, were full
of it. As soon as they were dressed in the morning they ran out to see
how everything looked, and how their new treasures had borne the night.

"Bella, I am going to have a bit of garden too," cried Tom, as soon as he
saw her. "Father wouldn't mind, I'm sure. He doesn't seem to want it
now, and it'll be better for me to have a little bit than to let it all be
idle."

Tom had thought of it in the night, and could hardly wait until daylight
to begin. And, of course, as soon as Charlie heard of the plan, he must
do the same. "So shall I," he cried sturdily. "I shall have a garden,
and grow strawberries and gooseberries, and--and all sorts of things.
Won't it be fine!"

"Margery wants a garden too. Margery wants to grow fings." Margery was
tugging at Bella's skirt, and dancing with eagerness.

"What can Margery do?" asked Bella gently. She was always gentle and kind
to her little sister. "Little girls like Margery can't dig up earth."

"Margery'll grow flowers," urged the little one eagerly, "Margery wants to
grow flowers, woses and daisies, and pinks, and sweet peas, and--and
snowdrops, and--oh, all sorts. Do give Margery a little garden, please,
Bella, please. Only just a little tiny, weeny one."

The baby voice was so urgent that Bella could not say 'No'; nor had she
any wish to. Anything that pleased Margery pleased her, and would, she
knew, please her father. "Come along, then, and choose which bit you will
have."

"I want it next to