of each. Our gardens are quite
bare except for that tiny plant. Do, _do_ come and see it!"

Margaret laughed.

Olive said, "Oh, what fun!" and the three began to walk quickly under
the trees in the direction of the Vivians' gardens.

As they passed under the great oak-trees Betty looked up, and her eyes
danced with fun. "Are you good at climbing trees?" she asked of
Margaret.

"I used to be when I was very, very young; but those days are over."

"There are a few very little girls in the lower school who still climb
one of the safest trees," remarked Olive.

Betty's eyes continued to dance. "You give me delightful news," she
said. "I am so truly glad none of you do anything so vulgar as to climb
trees."

"But why, Betty?" asked Margaret.

"I have my own reasons," replied Betty. "You can't expect me to tell you
everything right away, can you?"

"You must please yourself," said Margaret.

Olive looked at Betty in a puzzled manner; and the three girls were
silent, only that they quickened their steps, crunching down some broken
twigs as they walked.

By-and-by they reached the three bare patches of ground, which were
railed in in the simple manner which Mrs. Haddo had indicated, and in
the center of which stood the wooden post with the words, "THE VIVIANS'
PRIVATE GARDENS," painted on it.

"How very funny!" exclaimed Olive.

"Yes, it is rather funny," remarked Betty. "Did you ever in the whole
course of your existence see anything uglier than these three patches of
ground? There is nothing whatever planted in them except our darling
Scotch heather; and oh, by the way, I don't believe the precious little
plants are thriving! They are drooping like anything! Oh dear! oh dear!
I think I shall die if they die!" As she spoke she flung herself on the
ground, near the path.

"Of course you won't, Betty," said Margaret. "Besides, why should they
die? They only want watering."

"I'll run and fetch a canful of water," said Olive, who was extremely
good-natured.

Betty made no response. She was still lying on the ground, resting on
her elbows, while her hands tenderly touched the faded and drooping
bells of the wild heather. She had entered her own special plot. Olive
had disappeared to fetch the water, but Margaret still stood by Betty's
side.

"Do you think they'll do?" said Betty at last, glancing at her
companion.

Margaret noticed that her eyes were full of tears. "I don't think they
will," she said afte