glowed with happiness to think that a man had gone to the
trouble and expense of sending her violets. Before sitting down to her
meal, she picked out a few of the finest to pin them in her frock; the
others she placed in water in different parts of the room. If Mavis
were inclined to forget Perigal, which she was not, the scent of the
violets was enough to keep him in her mind until they withered.

She did not write to acknowledge the gift; she reserved her thanks till
their next meeting, which she believed would not long be delayed. The
following Saturday (she had seen nothing of Perigal in the meantime)
she called on Mrs. Trivett at Pennington Farm. The farmyard, with its
poultry, the old-world garden in which the house was situated, the
discordant shrieks which the geese raised at her coming, took the
girl's fancy. While waiting for the door to be opened, she was much
amused at the inquisitive way in which the geese craned their heads
through the palings in order to satisfy their curiosity.

The door was opened by a homely, elderly woman, who dropped a curtsey
directly when she saw Mavis, who explained who she was.

"You're kindly welcome, miss, if you'll kindly walk inside. Trivett
will be in soon."

Mavis followed the woman to the parlour, where her hostess dusted the
chair before she was allowed to sit.

"Do please sit down," urged Mavis, as Mrs Trivett continued to stand.

"Thank you, miss. It isn't often we have such a winsome young lady like
you to visit us," said Mrs Trivett, as she sat forward on her chair
with her hands clasped on the side nearest to Mavis, a manner peculiar
to country women.

"I can't get over your husband being a farmer as well as a musician,"
remarked Mavis.

Mrs Trivett shook her head sadly.

"It's a sad pity, miss; because his love of music makes him forget his
farm."

"Indeed!"

"And since you praised his playing in church, he's spent the best part
of the week at the piano."

"I am sorry."

"At least, he's been happy, although the cows did get into the hay and
tread it down."

Mavis expressed regret.

"You'll stay to tea and supper, miss?"

"Do you know what you're asking?" laughed Mavis.

"It's the anniversary of the day on which I first met Trivett, and I've
made a moorhen and rabbit-pie to celebrate it," declared Mrs Trivett.

Mavis was a little surprised at this piece of information, but she very
soon learned that Mrs Trivett's life was chiefly occupied wit