and green to eat better than
they do wild flowers," said Frank; "so you just take along some of these
water-cresses. Aren't they beauties? They're the first we've gathered
this spring, and I hope they'll bring you luck."

"But I have no basket," said Cissy.

"Carry them in your apron. They won't hurt;" and as she held it up, he
heaped it full of moist green bunches.

"That's just like you, Frank Hillborn," said Dave, when the girl had
gone. "What's the good of our owning the only water-cress brook for
miles if you're going to give 'em away to everybody that comes along?"

"Everybody that comes along?" repeated Frank, with a cheery laugh. "I've
only given a basketful to Ezra Lee--he lent us his fishing-line when we
lost ours--and an apronful to Cissy Mount. Poor Cissy! Guess there's
hard times at her house since her father was killed on the railroad and
her mother got lame. And you know she's going to ask for work, and it
most always puts folks in good-humor if you carry 'em something nice."

"All right," said Dave; "but don't you give away any more, for we want
to make five dollars out of 'em this season, anyhow."

Cissy Mount walked bravely on mile after mile, until half of her
journey had been accomplished. Then she stopped and looked around for a
place where she might rest awhile. A pleasant little lane, on either
side of which stood a row of tall cedar-trees, branched off from the
main road. Into this lane she turned, and sat down on the grass near the
side gate of a fine garden. And as she sat there peeping through a hole
in the hedge at some lovely beds of hyacinths and tulips, radiant in the
sunshine, a queer-looking little old gentleman, with no hat on, but
having a wonderful quantity of brown hair, came scolding down the garden
path, followed by a man carrying a camp-chair. The old gentleman as he
talked grew more and more excited, and at last, to Cissy's great
astonishment, grasped the abundant brown locks, lifted them completely
off his head, waved them in the air an instant, and then gravely
replaced them. As he came near, the child could hear what he was saying:
"I sent word from Europe when this place was bought that if there were
no water-cress stream upon it, one was to be made at once. That's a year
ago."

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, humbly, "but I did my best, sir. It
isn't my fault, sir. Sometimes you can't _make_ water-cresses grow, all
you can do, sir."

"And what's to be done with the