“She is made of the right stuff, and we must keep her among us; for she must not be lost or wasted by being left to drift about the world with no ties to make her safe and happy.  She is doing so well here, let her stay till the restless spirit begins to stir again; then she shall come to me and learn contentment by seeing greater troubles than her own.”

Mr. Power said this one day as he rose to go, after sitting an hour with Mrs. Sterling, and hearing from her a good report of his new protegee.  The young people were out at work, and had not been called in to see him, for the interview had been a confidential one.  But as he stood at the gate he saw Christie in the strawberry bed, and went toward her, glad to see how well and happy she looked.

Her hat was hanging on her shoulders, and the sun giving her cheeks a healthy color; she was humming to herself like a bee as her fingers flew, and once she paused, shaded her eyes with her hand, and took a long look at a figure down in the meadow; then she worked on silent and smiling,—­a pleasant creature to see, though her hair was ruffled by the wind; her gingham gown pinned up; and her fingers deeply stained with the blood of many berries.

“I wonder if that means anything?” thought Mr. Power, with a keen glance from the distant man to the busy woman close at hand.  “It might be a helpful, happy thing for both, if poor David only could forget.”

He had time for no more castle-building, for a startled robin flew away with a shrill chirp, and Christie looked up.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” she said, rising quickly.  “I was picking a special box for you, and now you can have a feast beside, just as you like it, fresh from the vines.  Sit here, please, and I’ll hull faster than you can eat.”

“This is luxury!” and Mr. Power sat down on the three-legged stool offered him, with a rhubarb leaf on his knee which Christie kept supplying with delicious mouthfuls.

Mr. Power and Christie in the strawberry bed.

“Well, and how goes it?  Are we still happy and contented here?” he asked.

“I feel as if I had been born again; as if this was a new heaven and a new earth, and every thing was as it should be,” answered Christie, with a look of perfect satisfaction in her face.

“That’s a pleasant hearing.  Mrs. Sterling has been praising you, but I wanted to be sure you were as satisfied as she.  And how does David wear? well, I hope.”

“Oh, yes, he is very good to me, and is teaching me to be a gardener, so that I needn’t kill myself with sewing any more.  Much of this is fine work for women, and so healthy.  Don’t I look a different creature from the ghost that came here three or four mouths ago?” and she turned her face for inspection like a child.

“Yes, David is a good gardener.  I often send my sort of plants here, and he always makes them grow and blossom sooner or later,” answered Mr. Power, regarding her like a beneficent genie on a three-legged stool.