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Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers, had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots; and patted it down with muddy little hands. CHAPTER XIX.—BETTY’S ILLNESS. “Not till evening; but there’s the lawn.”.

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The frenzied cries of the child were distinctly audible in the kitchen where sat Mrs. Mifsud and Mrs. Wopp, the latter busily engaged in mending a pile of socks. Both ladies sprang to their feet and hurried through the open door towards the garden, Mrs. Wopp still wearing a half-darned sock on her left hand and scattering others as she ran. They were followed by Betty, who had been filling her watering-can from the rain-barrel and had also heard the cries of the frightened child. The young dancers in the hall found the change of music decidedly exhilarating, as an occasional whoop testified. “You are one simp,” he comforted, at the same time putting his own overcoat about the shivering boy. The magic name won the day. Bess was ever dreaming of the land of mystery, whose pictured daughters of old she resembled; and the chance to masquerade in its atmosphere lured her..