"I don't much care if I do or not, so long as I can kiss you." After the process was over, she added, "If it had been a boy, I just wouldn't have kissed it, so I tell you." Knowing this was a very saucy little speech to make, she did not give Phebe a chance to reply, but hurried on, "It's fairly wonderful the change you have made in this place, and fancy you doing it all yourself! I used to call it 'Dandelion Farm.'"

"What do you call it now?"

"I haven't thought; let me see," leaning her head on her hands and puckering up her brow as though to press the thought in, "it's just like a patch of sunlight; yes, that would do, something out of the usual--Sunshine Patch."

"Yes, that will do," said Phebe, laughing, "but it reminds me how much I disliked the place when first I had a peep of it; these walls fairly made me shudder, and now I wouldn't have them one brick lower, because they give privacy; and see how refreshing they will be to look at when covered with greenery; and look at that lovely laburnum of our neighbour's drooping over the wall; and in the spring that high lilac-tree was a perfect picture. This little patch, as you call it, Bessie, dear, has taught me a lesson I hope I shall remember all my life."

"Whatever is that, teacher?" Bessie asked, looking up with mock wonder.

"But I am serious, Bessie; it is that most of our dark patches we could turn into sunshine patches if only we had the will."

"Do you know," said Bessie, with a real sigh, "my mother is my dark patch, and she walls me round like anything. I wonder if I could plant ivy slips round her!"

"You are a naughty girl," said Phebe, trying hard not to laugh, "I think she has more need to plant them round you."

"Phebe, where are you?" Ralph called out.

"Oh," said Bessie, suddenly springing up, "I'll go at once and consult the gardening book," but Phebe knew this was only a pretence to avoid having to talk to Ralph.

"It is fine to be you," said her husband, "to be able to sit in this retreat doing nothing this broiling hot day. How cool you look! but there, everything goes peacefully with you, while everything goes cross with me."

"Can I put anything right for you?"

"Of course you can't. I've been thinking," sitting down by her side, "what a stupid I am to put myself to so much trouble for people. You know I went last night to Hawtree Hall; I've been going there now for three years, and I haven't one customer in the place."

"But, Ralph, dear, you have a higher aim surely than to get customers."

"Of course I have; dear me, how you do misunderstand me! But surely decent, common grat.i.tude would lead some of the people to deal with me, if they had any. They don't pay for my services!"

"Of course not."

"And why, pray, 'of course not'? The more I get, the more good I can do.

Do you think I want money for any special, selfish gratification? G.o.d has called me to make money as well as to make speeches, and I can serve Him equally well in both ways."

"Certainly, but I think we all have to watch lest we cloak our ambitions with the appearance of doing G.o.d's service, and so deceive ourselves."

"A very nice way of calling me a hypocrite."

"Oh, Ralph, Ralph, it is nothing of the sort! I have often had to watch against that sort of thing."

"Well, don't measure my corn with your bushel, that's all. We'll change the subject. I see you opened that letter of Deason's, asking for that money. I am not going to pay him yet. I want that money for buying a 'new line' with. I am going to try another experiment this winter."

"But, Ralph, that man needs his money, he is poor."

"You can leave all those matters to me. You talk like a--but there, what do women know about business?" And he got up and walked towards the house, but before entering turned round and said, "I shall not be home till late; when it gets cooler perhaps you will be able to make me out a few bills."

She felt inclined to answer, "I don't know enough about business to do that," but wisely kept silence. She had been taking lessons of late in the right use of the lips, and was getting them pretty well under control.

When the cool of the evening came she was again sitting in Sunshine Patch, from whence she got just a little peep of the sunset sky. The baby was asleep; Janie was reading; Phebe had already spent two hours in bill-making and thought she might now conscientiously take the luxury of sitting and doing nothing, except having a good think. All day long there had been in her mind old Mrs. Colston's words about the process a Christian has to go through. "I think," she sighed, "instead of the creases getting out of my character, more creases get in. See how I seem to aggravate Ralph. Then to think of Bessie; I thought I might do real missionary work with her, and she's just as naughty as ever, and Janie is just as dull," and the tears began to come.

"Please, ma'am, here's Mrs. Colston." It was Janie's voice, and Mrs.

Colston herself immediately appeared. The old lady at once noticed the tear marks, and exclaimed, "I can see you are quite tired out; you must come in and lie down on the couch, and Janie shall get you something--no, I'll get it myself," and after half carrying Phebe indoors, she bustled away to the kitchen.

"Now, Janie, get some milk, a saucepan, and an egg." While she was watching the milk lest it should boil over, she went on talking. "Look here, Janie, you are to look well after your mistress, or she'll slip through your fingers."

"You don't mean to say she's going to die!" exclaimed Janie, in horror.

"Oh, dear, what should I do! You don't know how different this place has been since she's been here, and you don't know what she's done for me."

"No, I don't, but I can guess. You mustn't speak so loud or she will hear, and mind you don't go and tell her what I've said. Just shake yourself together a bit, my girl, and look well after her; be sure and feed her well, and see that she rests."

Mrs. Colston having seen to her favourite's bodily wants, sat down to have a talk. "I suppose you've tired yourself with writing lectures and speeches."

"'Lectures and speeches'!" exclaimed Phebe, trying to laugh, "whatever made you think I'd been doing that?"

"You told me yourself you were going to help Ralph write his lectures and speeches."

"Oh no, I do nothing of that sort," and try as she might the tone of disappointment would not be kept down, and the old friend caught it and guessed something of its meaning.

"You've never told me baby's name yet."

"She has two names."

"That's right; that's one for each of you."

"My name, I mean the one I chose for her, is Mary. I did not want to call her Phebe, because I don't see why married women should lose their Christian name, and they always do if they have a daughter called after them. I think no name can be so beautiful as Mary, because it was the name of the mother of Jesus. Ralph chose the other name; he said, simply Mary Waring would sound mean."

"Perhaps so; Phebe Mary go well together, and it was only natural he would like her named after you."

"It is not Phebe. Baby's name is Victoria Mary."

Mrs. Colston had long ago commenced the training of her lips, and for a moment did not speak.

"And may the little dear always have the victory. That's my wish for her."

"And you don't think it sounds ridiculous then?" asked Phebe, raising herself up on her elbow, "I mean for a draper's daughter?"

"Certainly not; why shouldn't a draper's daughter have as good a name as anybody else? I hope she will grow up a real queenie."

"I was thinking, dear Mrs. Colston, as you came into the garden, that the process of Christian-making is slow work with me. Indeed, sometimes I am afraid it has stopped altogether."

"Not it, my dear; not a wee bit of it," stroking her hair. "If you had said, 'I'm getting on fine--shall soon be a saint,' I should have said it was pretty nigh all up with you. But, bless you, my dear, you've got that feeling just now because the Lord's been dealing with you. I watched old Robert in the spring cutting his vine; my, there was a slaughtering! I fancy the poor old vine thought it was almost done for, but you should just see it now!"

As Mrs. Colston stepped out of the shop door that evening she nearly fell into the arms of Neighbour Bessie, as Phebe loved to call her. "How is Mrs. Waring?" Bessie asked anxiously. "Do you think she is all right?"

"Yes, she'll get on with care."