he little bird woke first, did she?" said Mr. Brooks.

Clematis nodded, and looked up shyly.

"I was thinking about you last night before I went to sleep. Suppose
I should keep you with me for a little while. Do you think you would
like that?"

"Oh, I would help like anything," she cried. "You just try me, and
see."

"Well, I will talk to Mr. Alder, and perhaps you can stay for a
while, at least."

So Mr. Brooks talked with Mr. Alder. Then he wrote to Mrs. Snow.

Yes, Clematis might stay a week.

How hard she tried!

"I'll wash and wipe all the dishes," she said.

The very first day she broke a cup. Then she cried.

"Dear me, don't feel bad about that. You are doing the best you can,
I know."

Mr. Brooks laughed, and Clematis smiled again.

"Men don't care so much about dishes," she said to herself.

To be sure, Clematis had not learned to do much, but she had learned
to do her best.

Mr. Brooks found that she could help in many ways, and she was so
anxious to do her best, that he gladly forgave her mistakes.

He made her a little bed in the room upstairs.

At evening, she could hear the wind whispering in the trees, and the
little brook that ran down from the spring.

In the morning, she could see the lakes and mountains across the
valley, as she sat by her open window, while the birds hopped about
on the twigs, and sang their sweetest songs.

[Illustration: A little girl was coming up the path]

Deborah slept each night in a little box close by her bed, and
followed her about all day long.

The week passed very quickly. On Friday, Mr. Brooks saw that she was
silent and thoughtful.

"I don't think I can spare you yet," he said at breakfast. "I must
ask Mrs. Snow to let you stay another week, at least."

Clematis was never so happy. She smiled and hummed a little song all
the morning. Now and then she would stop to pat Deborah, who slept
by the stove.

"He is going to let me stay another week, Debby!" she would whisper.
"Another week, another whole week."

This week was passing also, when Clematis had a great surprise.

It was a letter from Miss Rose.

"Oh, read it to me, read it to me!" she exclaimed, as she climbed up
into Mr. Brooks's lap.

So he opened the envelope and read:

"Dear Clematis:

Mr. Brooks has asked us if he might keep you for a year. Do
you think you would like to stay?

I shall go to see you in Tilton next week, so you must be
thinking it over, and