an to be impolite; but if you'll just
_try_, you'll find out what a mistake you and Flossie have been making, and
that God _wants_ to heal her."

The two looked at one another for a silent half-minute, the little girl's
heart beating faster under the grim gaze.

"You might come and see her some day," suggested Miss Fletcher, at last.
"She has a dull time of it, poor child. I've asked the children to come in,
and they've all been very kind, but it's vacation, and a good many that I
know have gone away."

"I will," replied Hazel. "Doesn't she like to come out here where the
flowers are?"

"Yes; it's been a little too cloudy and threatening to-day, but if it's
clear to-morrow I'll wheel her out under the elm-tree, and she'd like a
visit from you. Are you staying far from here?"

"No, uncle Dick's is right on this street."

"What's his last name?"

"Mr. Badger," replied Hazel, and she didn't notice the sudden stiffening
that went through Miss Fletcher.

"What is your last name?" asked the lady, in a changed voice.

"Wright."

This time any one who had eyes for something beside the flowers might have
seen Miss Fletcher start. Color flew into her thin cheeks, and the eyes
that stared at Hazel's straw tam-o'-shanter grew dim. This was dear Mabel
Badger's child; her little namesake, her own flesh and blood.

Her jaw felt rigid as she asked the next question. "Have you ever spoken to
your uncle Dick about my garden?"

"Yes, indeed. That's why he let me make one; and every night he asks,
'Well, how's Miss Fletcher's garden to-day,' and I tell him all about it"

"And didn't he ever say anything to you about me?"

"Why, no;" the child looked up wonderingly. "He doesn't know you, does he?"

"We used to know one another," returned Miss Fletcher stiffly.

Richard had certainly behaved very decently in this particular instance. At
least he had told no lies.

"Hazel is such an unusual name," she went on, after a minute. "Who were you
named for?"

"My mother's favorite aunt," returned the child.

"Where does she live?"

"I don't know," replied Hazel vaguely. "My mother was talking to me about
her the evening before uncle Dick and I left Boston. She told me how much
she loved aunt Hazel; but that error had crept in, and they couldn't see
each other just now, but that God would bring it all right some day. I have
a lovely silver spoon she gave me when I was a baby."

Miss Fletcher stooped to her border and cut a b