The handkerchiefs of the family having been commandeered in place of a towel, and Dan’s feet clad once more, they all sat on in a state of lazy, happy content, playing “Ducks and Drakes,” or talking, until at last Kitty, looking at the sky, saw with a shock that the sun was already setting, and realizing that they still had the long walk home before them, roused the party to sudden activity.

They were all on their feet in a moment.  “I think we had better get out on the road by this gate, instead of going back to the house again,” she said, hurrying towards one at the end of the field which brought them at once out on to the road.

“But hadn’t you better pay Mrs. Henderson?” questioned Betty, as she panted after her hurrying sister.

“Oh!” Kitty stood still and gasped, “I had quite forgotten!  How stupid of me!  I am glad you remembered, Betty,” and they all streamed back to the farm again and into the little garden, more heavily scented than ever now as the flowers revived in the dew and cooler air.

Mrs. Henderson came out to them quite smilingly, and apparently not at all concerned about their debt to her.  In her hand she was holding a flower-pot with a sturdy-looking little rose bush flowering in it.  The children eyed it admiringly.  It had two delicate pink roses 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.