you saw her?"

Miss Rose smiled. Then she saw tears in his eyes.

"Please forgive me for smiling," she said. "You reminded me so much
of Clematis. She asks questions just like that."

"Well, wouldn't you expect her to be like her own grandfather?"

Then Mr. Brooks smiled too.

"Is she really your grandchild?" exclaimed Miss Rose.

"Yes, she is, she must be. This is her mother here."

He pointed to one of the girls in the picture.

"This was taken in front of the Seminary, a year before she ran away
to be married."

"Oh, it seems just like a fairy story. I can hardly believe it."

Miss Rose looked again at the picture.

"Yes, it is like a fairy story," Mr. Brooks replied. "Dear, wayward
girl. She needn't have run away. I would have gladly forgiven her."

"Then you will take Clematis to live with you, I suppose."

"Yes indeed. I have wondered about that name, Clematis. Her mother
loved flowers. She loved the clematis vine about the door most of
all."

"I suppose she named Clematis in memory of her dear old home," said
Miss Rose.

Then Mr. Brooks told Miss Rose about the white house on the hill.

"I suppose we ought to move back there, now," he said. "Then
Clematis can go to the Union School, and grow up like other
children."

"It is wonderful. It is a fairy story, I am sure," she replied, "for
the fairies must have led Clematis to your door. She will be the
happiest child alive, when we tell her."

And Clematis was the happiest girl alive, when they called her in
and told her the whole story.

She climbed into her grandfather's lap, and held his hand, while
Miss Rose told it just like a fairy tale.

"Are we going to live in the house where all the vines are?" she
asked, when Miss Rose was done.

"Yes, dear, you are."

"And I can stay there always?"

"Yes, Clematis."

"And will you be my grandpa always?"

She looked up at Mr. Brooks. He smiled and kissed her hot cheek.

"Yes, little maiden. You shall be my housekeeper, and we shall be as
happy as robins in an apple tree."

So Miss Rose went back to Boston, and told them all the story.

The children made her tell it over and over again. They said it was
better than any fairy tale they had ever read.

"And did she really sleep out in the woods alone?" asked Sally.

"And does her grandfather really and truly have a big white house on
a hill?" asked Jane.

"Yes, yes, yes. It is all true, every word of it," answered Miss
Rose.

Even C