"Yes, I picked them this afternoon," said Mary. "I minded how fond you always were of posies; and you can arrange them better for yourself when you like."

"No, they are arranged beautifully now," said Phillis; "I won't touch them. Oh, I feel as if there wasn't any way to enjoy things enough!"

"You will find out the way better after tea," said Mrs. Overton, smiling. "I hope you are hungry, my child?" "Yes I am," said Phillis. "Is it tea-time? Then I will leave my boxes and things till afterwards."

Tea was a merry meal, and Mr. Overton took care that Phillis should do justice to his fine strawberries, which he declared he had grown on purpose for her. And when the tea was over and Phillis had unpacked, with Mary's help, and had distributed the gifts she had brought for each of her old friends, she brought a stool into the porch, where Mr. and Mrs. Overton sat together, and took her favourite seat at the old lady's feet.

"To-morrow," she said, "I shall race round everywhere. Oh, they are making hay in the meadow! I am so glad; I haven't been in a hayfield once for three years!"

"Dear child," said Mrs. Overton, "it gives us so much pleasure to see you so happy to come back to us. But these three years have not been unhappy ones, have they?"

"Oh no, not always!" said Phillis. "At first I thought I never could be happy, but I don't think I know how to be miserable always. Some days I was very happy-days when we went to concerts, or to see the wonderful things in the British Museum, or to the picture galleries. And days at the sea-side, too; I enjoyed a great many of them."

"You did not always go to Brighton?" asked Mr. Overton. "No," answered Phillis; "last year we went to Margate, and the year before to Scarborough. I like both those places much better than Brighton. But of course the sea was always beautiful, everywhere."

"And your cousins," said Mrs. Overton, "were they kind to you?"

"Julia was," answered Phillis, "and uncle was very kind too-I think they did like me; but aunt and Florence didn't, and they were not kind. And then there was Charles; he wasn't unkind exactly, but he was tiresome. I did not like him, except," she added candidly, "when he took me out in boats at Scarborough; then I was so happy I liked everybody."

Mr. and Mrs. Overton laughed.

"Well, whatever they have done to you," the old gentleman said, "they haven't made a fine young lady of you, nor taken the child's heart out of you either. You are just the

same as before you went away."

"Am I?" said Phillis. "I think I feel the same. I suppose I ought to begin to feel old now I am twenty-one. It does seem old when I think of it, only I can't feel so. I like running about and climbing hills, and all things of that sort, quite as much as ever. And I shall like to watch the haymakers to-morrow quite as much as I used to do." "That's right," said Mr. Overton. "Don't trouble yourself about growing up too fast, Phillis. enough for you to be old, if the Lord beginning just yet; and some people keep a child's heart always, and they are all the happier for it."

There will be long spares you, without

"I am happy," said Phillis, "so very happy to-night! Mrs. Overton, it won't be dark just yet; may I run and look at mother's grave? I should like to see it to-night. I hope she knows how happy I am, and how good you are to

me."

"Run along then," said Mrs. Overton, "only don't stay and catch cold ;" and Phillis caught up her hat and went. She did not stay very long; in twenty minutes she returned, and they all went indoors.

"The churchyard looks lovely to-night," said Phillis,

"and I watched the sun set. All the light seemed to fall just on mother's grave, through the trees. Mrs. Overton, did you put the flowers there?"

“No, dear, two of the little village girls asked me to let them do it after you went away."

"How good of them! I must thank them for it. guess who they are-Lizzy and Fan Turnor?"

I can

Yes, you have guessed right," said Mrs. Overton; “and your little boys, Phillis-they have been to school and church regularly since you went away, and have asked more questions about you than I could answer."

"I

"Dear little troublesome fellows!" said Phillis. must have my Sunday class again; I know Mr. Sandon will let me. Oh, my little piano! I must try it. How nice it looks!" and she touched the keys lovingly.

So Phillis played till Mary came in with the lamp and prepared supper, and when both supper and prayers were over, she was forced to own herself tired and go to bed. But as she drew the pink curtains round her, and thought over all her happiness, she felt that it was not quite perfect. She had not yet seen her other friend, the doctor, and Mr. and Mrs. Overton had not even mentioned his name. But then she had not asked after him; how silly it was to be so afraid of him! But yet, with all her longing to see him, she felt that she would be very much afraid of him, if he should come next day. And the last thing before she went to sleep, she found herself wondering if he still had the picture she had given him, and whether he had really looked at it as often as he had said he should.

CHAPTER XXX.

"The village seems asleep or dead,
Now Lubin is away."

PHILLIS awoke early next morning, and was up

and

dressed before Mr. and Mrs. Overton were stirring. It was a beautiful day, the sky of a deep cloudless

blue, and as she opened her window and leaned out, the softest of July breezes blew the clusters of white roses against her face to bid their fragrant good morning. Phillis gathered a handful of them and fastened them in her dress as she watched the haymakers down below.

"This is just like my birthday four years ago," she said to herself, "when I stood here and watched them toss the hay, and make it into those nice rows. Four years don't seem to make a great difference; I feel so much the same as I did then. And I remember Dr. Trevor came that day and talked to me; I wonder if he will come to-day, and if he knows I have come back? I must go and see Mrs. Trevor very soon, and I must go to Brook Valley the very first thing after breakfast, before it gets too hot." And she ran down, meeting Mary in the hall.

"Why, Miss Phillis, dear," she said, "you are up early! Do you feel rested?"

"Yes, quite," answered Phillis; "I slept so soundlythere weren't any horrid town noises to disturb me! And I felt I must get up directly I woke; I want to go round and see everything before breakfast.”

"You have forgotten all about butter-making, I suppose?" said Mary, in an aggrieved tone. "You won't want to be doing such things any more; them town young ladies never do, of course."

"Indeed I shall!" cried Phillis. "I'm not a town young lady, Mary, and I don't think I have forgotten. You tell me next time you make butter, and I will come and help you, and you shall see if I don't like it just as much as ever!"

"You will, really?" said Mary. "Well, there, I didn't think it, Miss Phillis, though to be sure you don't look as if you had learnt any of them proud ways. They be proud folks up in London, bean't they?"

"No, not all of them," said Phillis, laughing, "though I dare say they don't know anything about butter-making. Some of the people I saw were very nice, Mary."

"Well, you didn't like them better than folks here,” said Mary, "so I don't mind; and you shall make the butter, Miss Phillis, just as often as you please. 'Twill be all the sweeter, the master and missus will say, and the doctor too, for the matter of that, when he comes to tea."

Phillis laughed and ran away, first into the garden, where she examined every well-known nook and corner, and then through the orchard, and the paddock where the cows were feeding, and back again through the garden to the hayfield, where she sat and rested in her old corner under the oak tree till breakfast was ready.

"Now where are you when the meal was over. I'll come with you if you

there last.'

off?" asked Mr. Overton, smiling, "Brook Valley, I suppose? Well, will let me. It's long since I went

Phillis put on her hat joyfully, and they went. They