d of her long life, and she was very tired, and now all that
is forgotten, and she will never have a moment of vexation about her
tree. I don't know why I should cry for her; but oh, how could
Carnaby destroy that beautiful thing!"

"It was a genuine though mistaken act of conscience! You must not be
too hard on Carnaby!" pleaded Lavendar. "He would not touch the money
that was to come from the sale of Mrs. Prettyman's cottage under the
circumstances, so it seemed best to him that the sale should not take
place, and he prevented it in the directest and simplest way that
occurred to him. It's like some of the things that men have done to
please God, Mrs. Robin," Mark added, smiling, "and thought they were
doing it, too! But Carnaby only wanted to please you!"

"To _please_ me!" exclaimed Robinette, looking round her at the ruin
before them. "Oh dear!" she sighed, "how confusing the world is, at
times! I am just going to take this snowy branch and lay it on Nurse's
pillow. She so loved her tree! See; it's quite fresh and beautiful,
and the dew still upon it, just like tears!"

"That seemed just right," said Robinette softly as she came out into
the sunshine again, a few minutes later. "I laid the blossoms in her
kind old tired hands, the hands that have known so much work and so
many pains. It is over, and after all, her new home is better than any
I could have found for her!"

The two walked slowly down the little garden on their way to the gate.
As they passed, old Mr. Darke, who had hobbled around again to have
another look at the fallen tree, addressed Lavendar solemnly.

"Best tree in Wittisham 'e was, sir," touching the ruin of the
branches as he spoke. "'Ooever could ha' thought o' sich a piece of
wickedness as to cut 'im down? Murder, I calls it! 'Tis well as Mrs.
Prettyman be gone to 'er rest wi'out knowledge of it; 'twould 'ave
broken her old 'eart, for certain sure!"

"It nearly breaks mine to see it now, Mr. Darke!" said Robinette in a
trembling voice. But the old labourer bent down, moving his creaking
joints with difficulty and steadying himself upon his sticks till he
could touch the stump of the tree with his rough but skilful hands. He
pushed away the long grass that grew about the roots and looked up at
Robinette with a wise old smile.

"'Tisn't dead and done for yet, Missy, never fear!" he said. "Give 'im
time; give 'im time! 'E's cut above the graft--see! 'E'll grow and
shoot and bear blossom a