Nobody. Warner Susan

of ground laid out in lesser squares. Suchregularity was impossible here. In one place, two or three great appletrees in a group formed a canopy over a wide circuit of turf. The hoeand the spade must stand back respectfully; there was nothing to bedone. One corner was quite given up to the occupancy of an old cherrytree, and its spread of grassy ground beneath and about it was againconsiderable. Still other trees stood here and there; and the stems ofnone of them were approached by cultivation. In the spaces between,Lois stretched her line and drew her furrows, and her rows of peas andpatches of corn had even so room enough.

      Grass was hardly green yet, and tree branches were bare, and theupturned earth was implanted. There was nothing here yet but the Springwith Lois. It is wonderful what a way Spring has of revealing herself, even while she is hid behind the brown and grey wrappings she hasborrowed from Winter. Her face is hardly seen; her form is notdiscernible; but there is a breath and a smile and a kiss, that arelike nothing her brothers and sisters have to give. Of them all,Spring's smile brings most of hope and expectation with it. And thereis a perfume Spring wears, which is the rarest, and most untraceable, and most unmistakeable, of all. The breath and the perfume, and thesmile and the kiss, greeted Lois as she went into the old garden. Sheknew them well of old time, and welcomed them now. She even stood stilla bit to take in the rare beauty and joy of them. And yet, the appletrees were bare, and the cherry trees; the turf was dead and withered; the brown ploughed-up soil had no relief of green growths. Only Springwas there with Lois, and yet that seemed enough; Spring andassociations. How many hours of pleasant labour in that enclosed bit ofground there had been; how many lapfuls and basketfuls of fruits therich reward of the labour; how Lois had enjoyed both! And now, here wasspring again, and the implanted garden. Lois wanted no more.

      She took her stand under one of the bare old apple trees, and surveyedher ground, like a young general. She had it all mapped out, and knewjust where things were last year. The patch of potatoes was in thatcorner, and a fine yield they had been. Corn had been here; yes, andhere she would run her lines of early peas. Lois went to work. It wasnot very easy work, as you would know if you had ever tried to reduceground that has been merely ploughed and harrowed, to the smoothevenness necessary for making shallow drills. Lois plied spade and rakewith an earnest good-will, and thorough knowledge of her business. Donot imagine an untidy long skirt sweeping the soft soil andtransferring large portions of it to the gardener's ankles; Lois wasdressed for her work in a short stuff frock and leggins; and looked asnice when she came out as when she went in, albeit not in any costumeever seen in Fifth Avenue or Central Park. But what do I say? If shelooked "nice" when she went out to her garden, she looked superb whenshe came in, or when she had been an hour or so delving. Her hat fallenback a little; her rich masses of hair just a little loosened, enoughto show their luxuriance; the colour flushed into her cheeks with theexercise, and her eyes all alive with spirit and zeal – ah, the fairones in Fifth or any other avenue would give a great deal to look so; but that sort of thing goes with the short frock and leggins, and willnot be conjured up by a mantua-maker. Lois had after a while a strip ofher garden ground nicely levelled and raked smooth; and then her linewas stretched over it, and her drills drawn, and the peas were plantedand were covered; and a little stick at each end marked how far theplanted rows extended.

      Lois gathered up her tools then, to go in, but instead of going in shesat down on one of the wooden seats that were fixed under the greatapple trees. She was tired and satisfied; and in that mood of mind andbody one is easily tempted to musing. Aimlessly, carelessly, thoughtsroved and carried her she knew not whither. She began to drawcontrasts. Her home life, the sweets of which she was just tasting, setoff her life at Mrs. Wishart's with its strange difference of flavour; hardly the brown earth of her garden was more different from thebrilliant – coloured Smyrna carpets upon which her feet had moved insome people's houses. Life there and life here, – how diverse from oneanother! Could both be life? Suddenly it occurred to Lois that hergarden fence shut in a very small world, and a world in which there wasno room for many things that had seemed to her delightful and desirablein these weeks that were just passed. Life must be narrow within theseborders. She had had several times in New York a sort of perception ofthis, and here it grew defined. Knowledge, education, the intercourseof polished society, the smooth ease and refinement of well-orderedhouseholds, and the habits of affluence, and the gratification ofcultivated tastes; more yet, the having cultivated tastes; thegratification of them seemed to Lois a less matter. A large horizon, awide experience of men and things; was it not better, did it not makelife richer, did it not elevate the human creature to something of morepower and worth, than a very narrow and confined sphere, with itsconsequent narrow and confined way of looking at things? Lois was justtired enough to let all these thoughts pass over her, like gentle wavesof an incoming tide, and they were emphazised here and there by avision of a brown curly head, and a kindly, handsome, human facelooking into hers. It was a vision that came and went, floated in anddisappeared among the waves of thought that rose and fell. Was it notbetter to sit and talk even with Mr. Dillwyn, than to dig and plantpeas? Was not the Lois who did that, a quite superior creature to theLois who did this? Any common, coarse man could plant peas, and do itas well as she; was this to be her work, this and the like, for therest of her life? Just the labour for material existence, instead ofthe refining and forming and up-building of the nobler, inner nature, the elevation of existence itself? My little garden ground! thoughtLois; is this indeed all? And what would Mr. Caruthers think, if hecould see me now? Think he had been cheated, and that I am not what hethought I was. It is no matter what he thinks; I shall never see himagain; it will not be best that I should ever pay Mrs. Wishart a visitagain, even if she should ask me; not in New York. I suppose the Islesof Shoals would be safe enough. There would be nobody there. Well – Ilike gardening. And it is great fun to gather the peas when they arelarge enough; and it is fun to pick strawberries; and it is fun to doeverything, generally. I like it all. But if I could, if I had achance, which I cannot have, I would like, and enjoy, the other sort ofthing too. I could be a good deal more than I am, if I had theopportunity.

      Lois was getting rested by this time, and she gathered up her toolsagain, with the thought that breakfast would taste good. I suppose awhiff of the fumes of coffee preparing in the house was borne out toher upon the air, and suggested the idea. And as she went in shecheerfully reflected that their plain house was full of comfort, if notof beauty; and that she and her sisters were doing what was given themto do, and therefore what they were meant to do; and then came thethought, so sweet to the servant who loves his Master, that it is all for the Master; and that if he is pleased, all is gained, the utmost, that life can do or desire. And Lois went in, trilling low a sweetMethodist hymn, to an air both plaintive and joyous, which somehow – asmany of the old Methodist tunes do – expressed the plaintiveness and thejoyousness together with a kind of triumphant effect.

      "O tell me no more of this world's vain store!

      The time for such trifles with me now is o'er."

      Lois had a voice exceedingly sweet and rich; an uncommon contralto; andwhen she sang one of these hymns, it came with its fall power. Mrs.Armadale heard her, and murmured a "Praise the Lord!" And Charity, getting the breakfast, heard her; and made a different comment.

      "Were you meaning, now, what you were singing when you came in?" sheasked at breakfast.

      "What I was singing?" Lois repeated in astonishment.

      "Yes, what you were singing. You sang it loud enough and plain enough;ha' you forgotten? Did you mean it?"

      "One should always mean what one sings," said Lois gravely.

      "So I think; and I want to know, did you mean that? 'The time for suchtrifles' – is it over with you, sure enough?"

      "What trifles?"

      "You know best. What did you mean? It begins about 'this world's vainstore;' ha' you done with the world?"

      "Not exactly."

      "Then I wouldn't say so."

      "But I didn't say so," Lois returned, laughing now. "The hymn means, that 'this world's vain store' is not my treasure; and it isn't. 'Thetime for such trifles with me now is o'er.' I have found somethingbetter. As Paul says, 'When I became a man, I put away childishthings.' So, since I have learned to know something else, the world'sstore has lost its great value for me."

      "Thank