me up to the north to beg money for it. It
was the only one in thirty miles around. Eighteen years she lived
there, and left the cup to Miss Lisbet; the medal to her daughter.

Well, I must hurry on. I could talk about those days forever, but in
the books, I have taken notice often, they pick and choose.

So I will pass to when it came to her of a sudden how she could collect
clothes and food for the army, and keep one place open for the
lint-scraping and bandage-rolling, as all the ladies were doing in the
big cities. She had a tongue of honey and every one knew about her
having hired Mrs. Jarvis to go nurse, so she was sure to get what she
begged for. She took over a vacant office in the village, part of
Madam's property, and I never saw her happier than the day we were
fitting it up. It was all cleaned and new furnished and there were
desks and tables and nursing-books and shelves for the jellies and
medicines, and everything to be sent orderly and where needed at the
time, not rushed forward all helter-skelter as so much is at such
times. Dr. Stanchon saw all, and heard the plans, and patted her
shoulder.

"Well done, Blossom, well done!" says he. "I might have let you go,
after all!"

And he offered to advise and find out the quickest and best trains and
such like.

It was July and a hot, clear day. The notice was in the village paper
for all the women that could help, to come to a first meeting and take
hours for duty there, and routes to collect, and offer wagons if they
had them, and give fruit for jelly, and Miss Lisbet led off with the
old pony and cart for steady work.

We were resting in the garden and she had just told me that she meant
to give all her time to the "office," as we called it in a joking way
(for nice young ladies didn't go to offices then, I promise you! Madam
thought little enough of it) and she put her hand on mine.

"Rhoda," says she, "my dream is coming true--do you see? I'm to do
something for my country, after all! Just as a man would--just as Dick
does, Rhoda! Isn't it a grand thing?"

"Yes, miss," says I.

"The change is coming now, Rhoda," she says, and then, laughing at
herself, "I'm going to ask the larkspurs!"

And she pulled a great stalk and held it over her head, as I had taught
her seven years before.

"_Larkspur, larkspur, tell me true,_
_Or never again I'll trust to you!_

Is there to be a great change in my life?"

And she stripped them of