The very first day she broke a cup. Then she cried.
“Dear me, don’t feel bad about that. You are doing the best you can, I know.”
Mr. Brooks laughed, and Clematis smiled again.
“Men don’t care so much about dishes,” she said to herself.
To be sure, Clematis had not learned to do much, but she had learned to do her best.
Mr. Brooks found that she could help in many ways, and she was so anxious to do her best, that he gladly forgave her mistakes.
He made her a little bed in the room upstairs.
At evening, she could hear the wind whispering in the trees, and the little brook that ran down from the spring.
In the morning, she could see the lakes and mountains across the valley, as she sat by her open window, while the birds hopped about on the twigs, and sang their sweetest songs.
