“Oh,” said Phil, softly, “I wonder if heaven is any better than this!”

He had closed his eyes as he said it, and went over his usual morning prayer of thankfulness; and when he opened his eyes, there was Lisa with his breakfast-tray—­poached eggs and toast, and a goblet of milk.

“Lisa, Lisa, is not this too nice for anything?” asked Phil.

“Yes, indeed, dear, it is nice.  Miss Schuyler says you must hurry and get strong, so that you can make the acquaintance of the hens that laid these eggs for you, and the cow whose milk is to do you so much good.”

“What is the cow’s name, Lisa?”

“I don’t know,” said Lisa.

“It is Daisy,” said Miss Schuyler, coming in to say good-morning.  “She’s a lovely little Alderney, and her milk is like cream.  Oh, you will soon be strong enough to row my boat for me.”

“A boat!  Have you a boat?”

“Yes, and you are going out on the lake in her this very morning.”

“It is just too much happiness, Miss Schuyler.”

“Well, we will not overpower you.  For a day or two you must rest, and do nothing but breathe the sweet air.  I have to be busy getting things in order and looking after my garden.  Lisa will take her work on the piazza, and you can lie in one of the easy-chairs.  Joe is to wait on you, and do a little weeding, and keep the paths in order, and bail out the boat; and the old man seems to be very much at home already.  So that is the order of the day.  Now good-bye, and don’t do too much thinking.”

“One moment, Miss Schuyler; do you believe in fairies?”

“Just a little,” said Miss Schuyler, with a quizzical smile.

“Well, I believe in them,” said Phil, “and I think you are one of the best of them.”

“Oh no, I am very human, dear Phil, as you will find out.  And now I must go look after my strawberry-beds.  Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” said Phil, waving her a kiss.  “Only think, Lisa, we will actually see strawberries growing!  It is quite fairy-land for me.”

After that he was carried down to the easy-chair on the piazza, where he could see the lawn sloping down to the lake, and watch the birds lighting on the rim of a vase full of daisies and running vines.  He could see that the cottage was low and broad, and painted in two shades of brown; and that there were arbors covered with grape-vines on one side, and on the other he knew there were flower-beds and fruit-trees, for every once in a while Miss Rachel was to be seen emerging from there in a broad straw hat and with buck-skin gloves, trailing long bits of string or boughs of green stuff, with scissors and trowel and watering-can.

Lisa had her work-basket, and with deft fingers and a little undertone of psalmody was fashioning a pretty summer garment.  Then Miss Rachel came and tossed a basketful of early roses and syringa down beside Phil, and put a little table beside him, with some slender glass vases and a pitcher of water, and asked him to arrange the flowers for her.  This he was glad to do, and made the bunches up as prettily as his nice taste suggested.  But he was really wearied with great happiness.  It was all so new, so charming, every sense was so satisfied, that at last he closed his eyes and slept.