--"staring at my sweet peas as usual! I must go and drive her away
or she'll be putting her hand through the fence to get some. But what
a wretched looking creature she is!" she went on thoughtfully, looking
more closely. "She's worse off than you are, Hester Bartlett, if she
hasn't got a humpback. Hardly a decent rag to her back--not a shoe or
stocking--an old boy's hat, picked out of a gutter likely. And how she
does stare! looks as if she'd eat the flowers. Well anyway," she went
on more slowly, "she's got good taste; she never turns an eye on my
finest flowers, but stands glued to the sweet peas."

Another silence; the ragged girl still spellbound without; the little,
humpbacked mistress of the house peering through the blinds, an
unusual feeling of pity restraining her from going to the door and
putting to flight the strange, shy girl who seemed so fond of sweet
peas.

"I've a good mind to give her some," was the kind thought that next
stirred her heart, "but I suppose she'd run away if I spoke to her,
or call me old witch as the rest of 'em do," she went on bitterly,
talking to herself, as people do who live alone; then adding, "Well, I
can't stand here all day; I must go on with my work," she took up a
watering-pot she had filled, and started for her little flower patch.

[Illustration: She had to pass a cottage, almost hidden with Flowers.]

The instant the door opened, the flower-lover at the fence started on
a run after the cows, which finding themselves not urged from behind,
had stopped and were contentedly cropping the grass beside the road.

In a few minutes she had them safely shut into their pasture, and
turned back towards the village.

As she passed Miss Hester, that lady was tying up some straggling
vines, and almost to her own surprise, moved by her unwonted feeling
of pity for the child, she hastily picked half a dozen stems of the
fragrant blossoms and held them out.

"Want some?" she said shortly, almost gruffly, to the half-frightened
child.

The girl stopped. "Oh, Miss Hester!" she said doubtingly, half afraid
of the strange-looking, little woman who lived by herself, and was
never known to speak to anybody.

"If you don't want 'em," said Miss Hester savagely, "you needn't have
'em," and she flung the flowers far over the fence and turned away.

Maggie--for that was her name--with a cry of horror sprang eagerly
after them, picked them up carefully, shook off the dust, and turned
ag