“You shall have the flowers in time for your ball to-morrow night.  I will engage to make a wreath that will please you, only it may take longer than I think.  Don’t be troubled if I don’t send it till evening; it will surely come in time.  I can work fast, and this will be the happiest job I ever did,” said Lizzie, beginning to lay out mysterious little tools and bend delicate wires.

“You are altogether too grateful for the little I have done.  It makes me feel ashamed to think I did not find you out before and do something better worth thanks.”

“Ah, it wasn’t the boots or the cake or the roses, dear Miss Belle.  It was the kind looks, the gentle words, the way it was done, that went right to my heart, and did me more good than a million of money.  I never stole a pin after that day, for the little rose wouldn’t let me forget how you forgave me so sweetly.  I sometimes think it kept me from greater temptations, for I was a poor, forlorn child, with no one to keep me good.”

Pretty Belle looked prettier than ever as she listened, and a bright tear stood in either eye like a drop of dew on a blue flower.  It touched her very much to learn that her little act of childish charity had been so sweet and helpful to this lonely girl, and now lived so freshly in her grateful memory.  It showed her, suddenly, how precious little deeds of love and sympathy are; how strong to bless, how easy to perform, how comfortable to recall.  Her heart was very full and tender just then, and the lesson sunk deep into it never to be forgotten.

She sat a long time watching flowers bud and blossom under Lizzie’s skilful fingers, and then hurried home to tell all her glad news to mamma.

If the next day had not been full of most delightfully exciting events, Belle might have felt some anxiety about her wreath, for hour after hour went by and nothing arrived from Lizzie.

Evening came, and all was ready.  Belle was dressed, and looked so lovely that mamma declared she needed nothing more.  But Marie insisted that the grand effect would be ruined without the garland among the sunshiny hair.  Belle had time now to be anxious, and waited with growing impatience for the finishing touch to her charming toilette.

“I must be downstairs to receive, and can’t wait another moment; so put in the blue pompon and let me go,” she said at last, with a sigh of disappointment, for the desire to look beautiful that night in Somebody’s eyes had increased four-fold.

With a tragic gesture, Marie was about to adjust the pompon when the quick tap of a crutch came down the hall, and Lizzie hurried in, flushed and breathless, but smiling happily as she uncovered the box she carried with a look of proud satisfaction.

A general “Ah!” of admiration arose as Belle, mamma, and Marie surveyed the lovely wreath that lay before them; and when it was carefully arranged on the bright head that was to wear it, Belle blushed with pleasure.  Mamma said:  “It is more beautiful than any Paris could have sent us;” and Marie clasped her hands theatrically, sighing, with her head on one side: