very
often, in fact, and often despaired, but she never quite gave in, or, if
she did, it was for a little while only.

There were many hills to climb on the road she had chosen, but there were
many pleasant valleys too, and if sometimes her feet faltered and
stumbled, and she felt weary and disheartened, and looked at the next hill
hopelessly, feeling that she never could mount it, there were also happy
hours, and sweet flowers and sunshine to cheer her, and sometimes there
was such a feeling of hope and joy over all as made her heart sing and her
spirits dance. For the house really was tidier and less neglected, her
father came home regularly now, and was with them more, and she herself
had something to do, some object in life, some work that she could do
herself, and take a pride in.

Thus it was, when the spring came that was to bring such changes to their
lives, such steep hills to climb that they wondered sometimes if there was
any valley beyond, where they could rest a little, or any sunshine
anywhere, so heavy were the shadows.

Bella's flower-beds were a picture that year, and her herb-bed too, with
its great sprays of curly parsley, and bushes of mint and thyme, sage and
borage. In fact, all the garden was a goodly sight, and no one would have
recognised it for the garden of a year ago. There were rows of peas and
beans, just coming to perfection, and every other kind of vegetable that
space could be found for. The fruit bushes were laden with promise of
supplies in store, and already Miss Hender was making jam of the rhubarb,
which filled up one corner of the garden with its handsome great leaves.

"It does seem a pity sometimes that I can't do more with all my flowers,"
said Bella one day. She had carried a glorious bunch of sweet peas and a
basket of vegetables to Mrs. Langley. "I give away a good many, but most
people have their own, and don't really want any more, and they just grow
and flower and fade, and nobody but ourselves see them. Aunt Emma won't
let me bring in more than one little bunch at a time, so they just waste,
and it does seem a pity when there's a lot, and all so pretty."

Mrs. Langley looked at her lovely nosegay thoughtfully. "Child," she said
at last, "why don't you do up some bunches, and carry them into Norton on
a market day, or any other day, and try to sell them? Why, I've known my
missis, when I was in service, give shillings for flowers no better than
you bring me d