me, because they're so sweet-smelling; but there's no lavender
only in the gentlefolks' gardens, I think."

"That's no reason why you shouldn't have some," said Aaron, "for I can
bring you slips of anything; I'm forced to cut no end of 'em when I'm
gardening, and throw 'em away mostly. There's a big bed o' lavender at
the Red House: the missis is very fond of it."

"Well," said Silas, gravely, "so as you don't make free for us, or ask
for anything as is worth much at the Red House: for Mr. Cass's been so
good to us, and built us up the new end o' the cottage, and given us
beds and things, as I couldn't abide to be imposin' for garden-stuff or
anything else."

"No, no, there's no imposin'," said Aaron; "there's never a garden in
all the parish but what there's endless waste in it for want o'
somebody as could use everything up. It's what I think to myself
sometimes, as there need nobody run short o' victuals if the land was
made the most on, and there was never a morsel but what could find its
way to a mouth. It sets one thinking o' that--gardening does. But I
must go back now, else mother 'ull be in trouble as I aren't there."

"Bring her with you this afternoon, Aaron," said Eppie; "I shouldn't
like to fix about the garden, and her not know everything from the
first--should _you_, father?"

"Aye, bring her if you can, Aaron," said Silas; "she's sure to have a
word to say as'll help us to set things on their right end."

Aaron turned back up the village, while Silas and Eppie went on up the
lonely sheltered lane.

"O daddy!" she began, when they were in privacy, clasping and
squeezing Silas's arm, and skipping round to give him an energetic
kiss. "My little old daddy! I'm so glad. I don't think I shall want
anything else when we've got a little garden; and I knew Aaron would
dig it for us," she went on with roguish triumph--"I knew that very
well."

"You're a deep little puss, you are," said Silas, with the mild passive
happiness of love-crowned age in his face; "but you'll make yourself
fine and beholden to Aaron."

"Oh, no, I shan't," said Eppie, laughing and frisking; "he likes it."

"Come, come, let me carry your prayer-book, else you'll be dropping it,
jumping i' that way."

Eppie was now aware that her behaviour was under observation, but it
was only the observation of a friendly donkey, browsing with a log
fastened to his foot--a meek donkey, not scornfully critical of human
trivialities, bu