self close up against the pane, and the tight pink buds
clattered against it whenever they were stirred by the breeze. The
tapping noise was fully accounted for, but Anna could not turn away, it
was all so beautiful and so new to her.

She pushed up the window, and leaned out. What a lovely smell! There
was a long bed of mignonette and heliotrope just below, but, besides the
fragrance from this, the air was full of all the sweet scents which
belong to an early summer morning in the country. What nice, curious
noises, too, all mixed up together! The bees buzzing in the flowers
beneath, the little winds rustling in the leaves, the cheerful chirps
and scraps of song from the birds, the crow of a distant cock, the deep,
low cooing of the pigeons in the stable-yard near. Anna longed to be
out-of-doors, among these pleasant sights and sounds; she suddenly
turned away, and began to dress herself quickly. The stable clock
struck seven just as she was ready, and she ran down-stairs into the
garden with a delightful sense of freedom. The sunshine was splendid;
this was indeed different from walking in a London park; how happy she
should be in this beautiful place! On exploring a little, she found
that the garden was not nearly so large as it looked, for the end of it
was hidden by a great walnut tree which stood on the lawn. Behind this
came a square piece of kitchen garden, divided from the fields by a sunk
fence, with a little wooden foot-bridge across it.

Anna danced along by the side of the border, where the flowers stood in
blooming luxuriance and the most perfect order. Aunt Sarah was justly
proud of her garden, and at present it was in brilliant perfection.
Anna knew hardly any of their names, and indeed, except the roses, they
were strange to her; she had not thought there could be so many kinds,
and all so beautiful. Reaching the kitchen garden, however, she found
some old friends--a long row of sweet-peas, fluttering on their stems,
like many-coloured butterflies poised for flight; these were familiar,
for she had seen them in greengrocers' shops in London, tied up in
tight, close bunches. How different they looked at Waverley! The
colours were twice as bright.

"I like these best of all," she said aloud, and as she spoke, a step
sounded on the gravel, and there was Aunt Sarah, in her garden hat, with
a basket, and scissors in her hand.

"You admire my sweet-peas, Anna," she said, kissing her. "I came