a s'prise, and I will too. It'll please her ever so much."

The thought of it pleased him ever so much too, and he went in and went to
bed feeling in a happier mood than he had done for a long time. The mood
was on him the next morning too, when he came down to breakfast.

"Where are the children?" he asked, as he went to the scullery for his
heavy working boots.

"Oh, out in the garden. They are mad about the garden for the time," said
Aunt Emma, with a laugh. "Bella seemed troubled 'cause there was nothing
in it, so they're going to set matters right. She has planted a few
herbs, and Charlie is making a strawberry bed. I don't know how long
it'll last, I'm sure. They soon tires of most things."

"Ay, ay, children mostly do," was all that their father answered, but as
soon as his boots were fastened he sauntered out into the garden in search
of them.

"Breakfast's ready," called his sister after him. "Call the children,
will you?"

"I'll go and fetch them," he said, and made his way to where he heard
their voices.

When she caught sight of him Margery left the others and ran towards him.
"Daddy! daddy! come and look at my garden. Bella says she thinks my daisy
has taken root! Now it'll soon have lots of daisies on it, won't it? and
I'll give you a piece of root. Wouldn't you like that? Daddy, won't you
have a garden too, and have flowers in it?"

"Why, all the garden is father's," cried Charlie, laughing at her, and
with one accord they all turned and looked over the garden which was
'all father's,' and the untidiness, the look of neglect stamped upon
everything, brought a sense of shame to the father's heart.

"But there aren't any flowers," sighed Margery.

Aunt Emma's voice was heard calling them in to breakfast.

"No, there ain't any now, but there will be," said her father gravely.
The words, though to Margery they sounded so simple, were a promise made
to himself and to his dead wife to do better in the future than in the
past. "By God's help!" he added, under his breath.

That evening, when he came home from work, he made his way at once out
into the garden. He had brought home some bundles of young cabbage
plants, and was going to make a bed for them.

"It's too late for most things, but I can do something with the ground,"
he said to himself, as he went to the tool-shed for his fork and shovel.

The children had gone into Woodley on an errand for their aunt, but might
be back at a