when
she had grown up, and she often opened it to look at the ring: but
still she thought hardly at all about the father of whom it was the
symbol. Had she not a father very close to her, who loved her better
than any real fathers in the village seemed to love their daughters?
On the contrary, who her mother was, and how she came to die in that
forlornness, were questions that often pressed on Eppie's mind. Her
knowledge of Mrs. Winthrop, who was her nearest friend next to Silas,
made her feel that a mother must be very precious; and she had again
and again asked Silas to tell her how her mother looked, whom she was
like, and how he had found her against the furze bush, led towards it
by the little footsteps and the outstretched arms. The furze bush was
there still; and this afternoon, when Eppie came out with Silas into
the sunshine, it was the first object that arrested her eyes and
thoughts.

"Father," she said, in a tone of gentle gravity, which sometimes came
like a sadder, slower cadence across her playfulness, "we shall take
the furze bush into the garden; it'll come into the corner, and just
against it I'll put snowdrops and crocuses, 'cause Aaron says they
won't die out, but'll always get more and more."

"Ah, child," said Silas, always ready to talk when he had his pipe in
his hand, apparently enjoying the pauses more than the puffs, "it
wouldn't do to leave out the furze bush; and there's nothing prettier,
to my thinking, when it's yallow with flowers. But it's just come into
my head what we're to do for a fence--mayhap Aaron can help us to a
thought; but a fence we must have, else the donkeys and things 'ull
come and trample everything down. And fencing's hard to be got at, by
what I can make out."

"Oh, I'll tell you, daddy," said Eppie, clasping her hands suddenly,
after a minute's thought. "There's lots o' loose stones about, some of
'em not big, and we might lay 'em atop of one another, and make a wall.
You and me could carry the smallest, and Aaron 'ud carry the rest--I
know he would."

"Eh, my precious un," said Silas, "there isn't enough stones to go all
round; and as for you carrying, why, wi' your little arms you couldn't
carry a stone no bigger than a turnip. You're dillicate made, my
dear," he added, with a tender intonation--"that's what Mrs. Winthrop
says."

"Oh, I'm stronger than you think, daddy," said Eppie; "and if there
wasn't stones enough to go all round, why they'll go par