in full
bloom on it, and several little buds. "I was wondering, missie," she
said, turning to Betty, and holding out the rose to her, "if you would
be pleased to have this little plant; 'tis off my old monthly rose that
I've had for so many years. I planted this one last year and it has
come on nicely. Would you be pleased to accept it?"

Betty gasped. For a moment she was so surprised and overjoyed as to be
speechless. "Me! For me!" she cried at last. "Oh, how lovely!
Thank you _so_ much, Mrs. Henderson. I'll keep it always, and 'tend to
it myself every day. I have never had a plant of my own before, and I
shall love it," and Betty took her rose in her arms and hugged it in
pure joy.

"You have made Betty very happy now, Mrs. Henderson," said Kitty,
without a trace of envy in her heart. "Thank you for all you have done
for us. Good-night."

"Good-night, and thank you for our fine tea," said Dan, and one by one
they passed out of the scented garden, and on their homeward way.

A soft evening mist was creeping slowly up over the river and the
sloping meadow; the distant woods looked desolate, and almost awesome.
Kitty could nut picture them now peopled as they had been in the
morning, and her efforts to do so were soon interrupted by a little
piteous voice beside her.

"My feets do hurt me," said Tony plaintively. "I s'pose I mustn't take
off my boots?"

"Poor old Tony," cried Dan. "Here, let me carry you," and he hoisted
his tired little brother on to his shoulders. But Dan was tired too,
and the way was long, and they had either to walk in single file along
the tiny track worn beside the sleepers, or over the sleepers
themselves, and that meant progressing by a series of hops and jumps,
which might perhaps be amusing for a few minutes at the beginning of a
day's pleasuring, but is very far from amusing when one is tired and the
way is long. The summer evening was warm too.

"I wish the old 'Rover' would come along," panted Dan at the end of
about a quarter of an hour's march. "I'd get those fellows to give us a
lift for part of the way at any rate."

"Oh," sighed Betty, "how lovely that would be! But things don't happen
when you want them to, do they?"

Miss Betty's sad and cynical view of life was wrong though, for not so
very much later the familiar rumbling and shaking, and puffing and
rattling, reached their ears once more, and coming, too, from the
direction of Wenbridge.

In a state