d Rehobothite remained a Hebrew of Hebrews; while the
others, at the best, were but proselytes of the gate. It was the
first brunt of this storm of suspicion from which the minister's
wife was suffering, and she was powerless to stay it, or even
allay its stress; nor could her husband come to her deliverance.
Milly, however, like the good angel that she was, proved her
friend in need, and all unconsciously, and yet effectively,
turned the tide of cruel and inquisitorial scorn first of all
into wonder and then into delight.

And it came about in this manner. As the congregation were leaving
the chapel at the close of the afternoon service, and poor Mrs.
Penrose, sorely bewildered, was jostled by the staring throng,
Milly pushed her way with her crutch to the blushing woman, and,
handing her a bunch of flowers, said:

'See yo', Mrs. Penrose, here's a posy for yo'. Yo're maister sez
as yo' like flaars, an' aw've grow'd these i' my own garden. Aw
should ha' brought 'em this mornin', but aw couldn't ged aat; an'
mi mother wouldn't bring 'em for me, for hoo said aw mun bring 'em
mysel.'

Mrs. Penrose could not translate the vernacular in which the child
spoke, but she could, and did, translate the gift; and tears came
into her eyes as she reached out her hand to take from the
crippled girl the big bunch of roses, tiger-lilies and hollyhocks
which Milly extended towards her. There was a welcome in the
flowers of Rehoboth, if not in the people, thought she; and, at
any rate, one little soul felt warmly towards her.

As Mrs. Penrose looked at the blushing flowers and caught the
scents that stole up from them, and as she looked at the little
face on which suffering had drawn such deep lines--a little face
that told of pity for the lonely bride--a home feeling came over
her, and she felt that there was another in Rehoboth, as well as
her husband, by whom she was loved. To Mrs. Penrose little Milly's
gift made the wilderness to rejoice and the desert to blossom as
the rose; and, stooping, she kissed the child, while her tears
fell fast and starred the flowers she held in her hand.

That kiss, and the tears, won half the hearts of the Rehoboth
congregation.

'Hoo's a lady, whatever else hoo is,' said an old woman; 'an' if
hoo's aboon porritch, hoo's none aboon kissin' a poor mon's
child.'

* * * * *

That evening, as Mr. Penrose walked with his wife along the path
of the old manse garden,