Part 4 (1/2)

”How about that sage I asked you to look for?” she began, but when her eye fell on the basket the rest of her scolding died away,--”Oh, so you've got some. Well, it isn't too late,” she stammered, trying not to look foolish, and to speak graciously. It was Bella's turn to colour now.

She had completely forgotten all about her aunt and the supper.

”There wasn't a bit, Aunt Emma, and--and I forgot to come in and tell you, but I am going to plant some fresh things in the herb-bed. Tom's digging it over, and I am going to look after it. I asked Aunt Maggie to give me a root or two, and you can have some of the sage leaves before I plant it; but ”--and she put down her basket, and began to grope in the bottom of it--”Aunt Maggie sent you a bottle of dried sage, and one of parsley.

She dried them herself. She said if you hadn't got any at any time, they might be useful,”; and she put the two little bottles into her aunt's hand with great joy, looking up at her to read her approval in her face.

But Miss Hender's face showed nothing of the sort. ”I don't believe in such new-fangled notions,” she said ungraciously; ”here, give me a bit of that,” breaking off a sprig of sage, ”I want something that's fit to eat, and has got some goodness left in it!”

The light and pleasure died out of Bella's face. It always hurt her to hear her Aunt Maggie, or anything of Aunt Maggie's, spoken contemptuously of, and sudden anger at such petty spitefulness swelled up in her heart, for it was petty of her aunt, and it was spiteful, and Bella knew it.

Indeed, every one knew it, but no one dared say anything to the foolish woman, for fear of making matters worse.

In her pleasure, though, at the sight of the work Tom had done in her absence, Bella recovered herself, and this time she did not forget her aunt or the supper, but coming upon a few onions she gathered them into her basket and sent them in by Margery.

By the time Miss Hender came to the door again to call them all in to supper and bed, the sage bushes and thyme, the roots of mint and borage, were standing st.u.r.dily erect in the newly-turned bed, which was neatly outlined by large stones. Bella went to bed that night very tired and very happy, and dreamed of her mother.

While the children lay asleep, their father, coming home late and taking a turn round his neglected garden while he finished his pipe, drew up before the little herb-bed with almost a startled look on his face. He stood there minute after minute, gazing at the newly-turned earth and the st.u.r.dy little bushes showing out so clearly in the moonlight; the one neat and hopeful spot in the whole untidy waste, it seemed almost to speak reproachingly to him.

What his thoughts were no one knew, but he sighed deeply more than once, and when at last he moved away his pipe had gone out, though it was not empty.

CHAPTER IV.

SAGE BUSHES AND ROSE BUSHES.

The next morning William Hender was more than usually silent at breakfast, and he went off to his work without making any reference to what he had seen in the garden over-night. The children's thoughts, though, were full of it. As soon as they were dressed in the morning they ran out to see how everything looked, and how their new treasures had borne the night.

”Bella, I am going to have a bit of garden too,” cried Tom, as soon as he saw her. ”Father wouldn't mind, I'm sure. He doesn't seem to want it now, and it'll be better for me to have a little bit than to let it all be idle.”

Tom had thought of it in the night, and could hardly wait until daylight to begin. And, of course, as soon as Charlie heard of the plan, he must do the same. ”So shall I,” he cried st.u.r.dily. ”I shall have a garden, and grow strawberries and gooseberries, and--and all sorts of things.

Won't it be fine!”

”Margery wants a garden too. Margery wants to grow fings.” Margery was tugging at Bella's skirt, and dancing with eagerness.

”What can Margery do?” asked Bella gently. She was always gentle and kind to her little sister. ”Little girls like Margery can't dig up earth.”

”Margery'll grow flowers,” urged the little one eagerly, ”Margery wants to grow flowers, woses and daisies, and pinks, and sweet peas, and--and snowdrops, and--oh, all sorts. Do give Margery a little garden, please, Bella, please. Only just a little tiny, weeny one.”

The baby voice was so urgent that Bella could not say 'No'; nor had she any wish to. Anything that pleased Margery pleased her, and would, she knew, please her father. ”Come along, then, and choose which bit you will have.”

”I want it next to yours.”

”Very well. I don't s'pose father will mind.”

”Let me dig it over for her the first time,” urged Tom, and he left the marking out of his own new bed to come and dig up Margery's.

Charlie and Bella and Margery herself collected large stones to outline it with, and by dinnertime there was a very neat and inviting-looking patch beside Bella's herb-bed.

”What'll you do for flowers to put in it, though?” laughed Charlie.

”Have you got any?”