XII.

E left little Miss Emily Proudie lying like a broken lily, stretched

out on the white bed that Pussy Willow had made for her, where, tired with her day's ride, she slept soundly.

Dr. Hardhack had been very positive in saying that neither her mother nor any of her aunts, nor indeed any attendant who had taken care of her in New York, should have anything to do with her in her new abode. 'She is to break all old associations,' he said, 'and wake up to a new life. I can't answer for her health if you give her even a servant that she has had before. Engage some good, wholesome country

girl for a companion for her, and some good farmer's wife to overlook her, and turn her out into a nice, wide old barn, and let her lie on

the hay, and keep company with the cows,' he 'Nature will take care of her-only

went on.

give her a chance.'

About five o'clock the next morning, Emily was wakened by a bustle in the house. What could be the matter? she thought, there was such a commotion on the stairs. It was, however, only the men-folk of the household going down to their breakfast; and Pussy and her mother had been up long before, in time to get the corn-cake baked, and coffee made, and everything ready for them.

Then there began to come up into the windows such a sound of cackling and lowing and bleating, as the sheep and the cows and the oxen all began, in different tones, calling for their morning breakfast, and gossiping with one another about a new day. Emily lay in

her bed, and watched the pink light, making her white curtains look all rose-colour, and the sounds of birds and hens and cows and sheep all mingled in her mind in a sort of drowsy lulling murmur, and she fell into a soft, refreshing doze, which melted away into a deep sleep; and so she slept ever so long. When she awoke again the sun was shining clear and bright through her window-curtains, which had been looped back with festoons of wild roses, that seemed so fresh and beautiful that she could not help starting up to look at them.

She perceived at once that while she had been sleeping some one must have been in her room, for, by the side of her bed, was a table covered with a white cloth, and on the table was a tall slender vase, full of fresh morning-glories, blue and purple and rose-coloured and dark violet, with colours as intense and vivid as if they really had been morning clouds grown into flowers. O, how beautiful!' she exclaimed.

'I'm so glad you like them!' said a voice behind her; and Pussy Willow stood there in a trim morning-wrapper, with just the nicest white frill you ever saw around her little throat. 'O, did you bring these flowers here?'

'Why, yes; I picked them for you with the dew on them. I thought it a pity you should not see them before the sun shut them up. They are ever so beautiful, but they only last one morning.'

'Is that so?' said Emily. 'I never knew that.' Certainly; but then we always have new

ones.

Some mornings I have counted as many as sixty or seventy at my milk-room window when I have been skimming the cream.'

'How very early you must get up!'

'Yes, about the time the bobolinks and robins do,' said Pussy, cheerfully. 'I want to get my work all done early. But come now, shall I help you to dress?' and Pussy brought water and towels to the bedside, and helped

Emily with all her morning operations as handily as if she had been a maid all her life, till finally she seated her, arrayed in a neat white wrapper, in the rocking chair.

'And now for your breakfast. I have got it all ready for you;' and Pussy tripped out, and in a few moments returned, bringing with her a tea-tray covered with a fine white cloth, which she placed upon the stand. Now let's move your table up to you, and put your vase of flowers in the centre.'

'O, what a pretty breakfast!' said Emily.

And so it was, and a good one too; for, first, there was a large saucer of strawberries, delightfully arranged on green vine leaves; then there was a small glass pitcher full of the thickest and richest cream, that was just the colour of a saffrano rose-leaf, if any of my little friends know what that is. Then there was the most charming little cake of golden butter you ever saw, stamped with a flower on it, and