y through the gravel. Soon there was no longer
any doubt that everything was mightily refreshed by it; the look of
exhaustion and hopelessness was gone, and life was busy in flower and
tree and plant. This year there was not a garden, even on the banks of
the river, to compare with it; and when the autumn came, there was more
fruit than Mr Macmichael remembered ever to have seen before.

CHAPTER X.

A NEW ALARUM.

Willie was always thinking what uses he could put things to. Only he
was never tempted to set a fine thing to do dirty work, as dull-hearted
money-grubbers do--mill-owners, for instance, when they make the channel
of a lovely mountain-stream serve for a drain to carry off the filth
from their works. If Dante had known any such, I know where he would
have put them, but I would rather not describe the place. I have told
you what Willie made the prisoned stream do for the garden; I will now
tell you what he made the running stream do for himself, and you shall
judge whether or not that was fit work for him to require of it.

Ever since he had ceased being night-nurse to little Agnes, he had
wished that he had some one to wake him every night, about the middle of
it, that he might get up and look out of the window. For, after he had
fed his baby-sister and given her back to his mother in a state of
contentment, before getting into bed again he had always looked out
of the window to see what the night was like--not that he was one bit
anxious about the weather, except, indeed, he heard his papa getting up
to go out, or knew that he had to go; for he could enjoy weather of
any sort and all sorts, and never thought what the next day would be
like--but just to see what Madame Night was thinking about--how she
looked, and what she was doing. For he had soon found her such a
changeful creature that, every time he looked at her, she looked at him
with another face from that she had worn last time. Before he had made
this acquaintance with the night, he would often, ere he fell asleep,
lie wondering what he was going to dream about; for, with all his
practical tendencies, Willie was very fond of dreaming; but after he had
begun in this manner to make acquaintance with her, he would just as
often fall asleep wondering what the day would be dreaming about--for,
in his own fanciful way of thinking, he had settled that the look of
the night was what the day was dreaming. Hence, when Agnes required
his services no