This charming proposal caused the little girl to clasp her hands and cry aloud,—­

“That would be perfully sp’endid!  I know Cousin Penny would like it, and let me.  P’r’aps she’d come herself; she’s so thin, she could, and she loves your mother and wants to see her.  Only, Cousin Henny won’t let us be nice and friendly.  S’pose you send her some cherries; she loves good things to eat, and maybe she will say yes, if you send lots.”

Mr. Dover laughed at this artless proposal, and Miss Henny smiled at the prospect of a gift of the luscious black-heart cherries she had been longing for.  Roxy wisely repeated only the agreeable parts of the conversation; so nothing ruffled the lady’s temper.  Now, whether Mr. Dover’s sharp eye caught a glimpse of the face among the gooseberry bushes, and suspected eavesdroppers, or whether the child’s earnest desire to make peace touched him, who shall say?  Certain it is that his eyes twinkled like a boy’s, as he said rather loudly, in his most affable tone,—­

“I shall be most happy to send Miss Henrietta a basket of fruit.  She used to be a charming young woman.  It’s a pity she shuts herself up so much; but that sad little romance of hers has darkened her life, I suppose.  Ah, well, I can sympathize with her!”

Rosy stared at the sudden change in his manner, and was rather bewildered by his grown-up way of talking to her.  But being intent on securing something nice to carry home, she stuck to the cherries, which she did understand, and pointing to the piazza said with a business-like air,—­

“There’s a basket; so we might pick ’em right away.  I love to go up in trees and throw ’em down; and I know Cousin Henny will like cherries ever so much, and not scold a bit when I take some to her.”

“Then come on,” cried Mr. Thomas, relapsing into the hearty manner she liked so much; and away he went, quite briskly, down the path, with his yellow skirts waving in the wind, and Button skipping after him in great glee.

“They actually are a-picking cherries, Miss, up in the tree like a couple of robins a-chirpin’ and laughin’ as gay as can be,” reported Roxy, from her peep-hole.

“Rip off the rest of that board, then I can see,” whispered Miss Henny, quivering with interest now; for she had heard Mr. Dover’s words, and her wrath was appeased by that flattering allusion to herself.

Off came the rest of the board, and from the window, half hidden in woodbine, she could now see over the bushes into the next garden.  The peep-hole commanded the tree, and she watched with eager eyes the filling of the basket to be sent her, planning the while a charming note of thanks.

“Do look, Miss; they are resting now, and she’s on his knee.  Ain’t it a pretty picter?” whispered Roxy, unmindful of the earwigs, ants, and daddy-long-legs promenading over her as she crouched in her mouldy corner, intent on the view beyond.