had found
her wanting. He had spoken to her with a little severity, and at the
same time looked at her pityingly, and the girl had felt more miserable
than can be told at having disappointed him. To-day she was left to
spend a long afternoon by herself, as Miss Davis had taken Phyllis and
Nell to visit some friends, and, though her morning's work ought to have
been over, she still sat at her lessons, labouring diligently. At last
becoming thoroughly tired she closed her book and raised her eyes
wearily, when they fell on a jar of wild flowers which yesterday she had
arranged and placed upon a bracket against the wall. It was spring, and
in the jar was a cluster of pale wood-anemones with some sprays of
bramble newly leafed. Hetty's eyes brightened at the sight of these
flowers, and noted keenly every exquisite outline and delicate hue of
the group. It seemed to her at the moment that she had never seen
anything so beautiful before. Mechanically she took up her pencil and
began to imitate on a piece of paper the waving line of the bramble
wreath, and the graceful curves of the leaves. To her own great surprise
something very like the bramble soon began to appear upon the paper. A
sharp touch here, a little shadow there, and her drawing looked vigorous
and true. After working in great excitement for some time Hetty got up
and pinned her drawing to the wall, and stood some way off looking at
it. Where had it come from? she asked herself. She had never learned to
draw. She had not known that she could draw. Oh, how delightful it would
be if she could reproduce the flowers as they grew! Not quite able to
believe in the new power she had discovered in herself, she set again to
work, altering the arrangement of the flowers in the jar, and taking a
larger sheet of paper. It was only ruled exercise paper, but that did
not seem to matter when the flowers blossomed all over it. The second
drawing was even better than the first; and Hetty stood looking at it
with flushed cheeks and throbbing heart, wondering what was this new
rapture that had suddenly sprung up in her life.

As her work was done, and the afternoon was all her own, she was able to
give herself up to this unexpected delight, and spent many hours
composing new groups of flowers, and arranging them in fanciful designs.
When a maid brought up her solitary tea she lifted her flushed face and
murmured, "Oh, can it be tea-time?" and then spread out all her
drawings against