efore you'll have enough
to get it with, if you do as well every week as you have to-day.
You can't always expect, though, to have such a lot of flowers as you've
got just now."

"I think I shall take some bunches of herbs in with me next time," said
Bella. "Don't you think they'd sell, father?"

"I should think most people grow their own," said her father; "still, you
can but try. The weight of them won't hurt you, even if you have to bring
them back again."

"Bella, if I've got some flowers next Saturday, will you take in a bunch
and sell them for me?" asked Margery excitedly. "Then I'll have a penny
to put in the bank too."

"Oh, yours are fairy flowers," teased Charlie; "they would die on the way,
or turn into something else."

Margery was not going to be teased. "P'raps they'd turn into fairies,"
she said, nodding her head wisely at her brother; "then they'd turn all
Bella's pennies into golden sov'rins, and make a little horse and carriage
to drive her home in."

"I'll find you some sandwiches or cake or something to take with you next
week," said Aunt Emma; "it's a pity you should spend your money on buns
and things. It'll be better for you, and cheaper, to take your own with
you."

Tom and Bella could scarcely believe their ears, but they felt very
pleased, and thanked her very gratefully.

CHAPTER VII.

WHAT LAY BEYOND THE MILESTONE.

The next week the children went off far more heavily laden than they had
been when they made their first venture. Bella had added a few bunches of
herbs to her large supply of flowers, and a bunch or two from Margery's
garden, and she had to carry both her baskets herself, for Tom's
vegetables proved load enough for him. He had wanted to take some
currants for Charlie, but his father would not allow that.

"They ain't good enough," he said; "it won't do for to begin offering poor
stuff to your customers, or you'll lose those you've got and never get any
more, and you'll have all your load to carry for nothing. You learn to
grow better ones, Charlie, my boy, and then another year you'll be able to
make something by them."

Charlie's face fell, but he had not given the time or care to his garden
that the others had, and he knew it, and that only made him more vexed.
Life was disappointing to Charlie just then. It seemed to him, and to
Margery too, hard that they also could not go to Norton every Saturday.
The ten-mile walk they forgot all about, they o