er when young Mr. Dallas don't come
along. She just mopes, she do; and it's on my mind, and master he don't
see it. I wish he would.'

'The little one does wear an uncommon solemn countenance,' said the
gardener, who was in his way quite an educated man, and used language
above his station.

'It do vex me,' repeated the housekeeper.

'But young Mr. Dallas comes along pretty often. If Miss Esther was a
little older, now, we should see no more of her solemnity. What 'ud
master say to that?'

'It's good things is as they be, and we've no need to ask. I don't want
no more complications, for my part. It's hard enough to manage as it
is.'

'But things won't stay as they be,' said the gardener, with a twinkle
of his shrewd blue eye as he looked at his sister. 'Do you expect they
will, Sarah? Miss Esther's growin' up fast, and she'll be an uncommon
handsome girl too. Do you know that?'

'I shouldn't say she was what you'd go fur to call handsome,' returned
the housekeeper.

'I doubt you haven't an eye for beauty. Perhaps one ought to have a bit
of it oneself to be able to see it in others.'

'Well I haven't it,' said Mrs. Barker; 'and I never set up to have it.
And I allays thought rosy cheeks went with beauty; and Missie has no
more colour in her cheeks, poor child, than well--than I have myself.'

'She's got two eyes, though.'

'Who hasn't got two eyes?' said the other scornfully.

'Just the folks that haven't an eye,' said the gardener, with another
twinkle of his own. 'But I tell you, there ain't two such eyes as Miss
Esther's between here and Boston. Look out; other folk will find it out
soon if you don't. There ain't but three years between twelve and
fifteen; and then it don't take but two more to make seventeen.'

'Three and two's five, though,' said Mrs. Barker; 'and five years is a
long time. And Miss Esther ain't twelve yet, neither. Then when'll ye
be goin' after the greens, Christopher?'

'It'll be a bit yet. I'll let you know.'

The fair spring morning was an hour or two farther on its way,
accordingly, when the gardener and the little girl set out on their
quest after greens. Yet it was still early, for the kitchen breakfast
was had betimes. The gardener carried a basket, and Esther too did the
like; in hers there was a small trowel, for 'she might find something,'
she said. Esther always said that, although hitherto her 'findings' had
amounted to nothing of any account; unless, indeed, I correc