"So you have your father's Bible, child?"
"Yes," Marigold answered; "mother gave it to me only the night before last. She said she thought father would wish me to have it."
Miss Pamela stood looking at the Bible thoughtfully. Marigold could not guess that she was recalling the day when she and her sister had given it to their nephew, who had been then a schoolboy, and how Miss Holcroft had begged him to read it.
"I will, Aunt Mary, if only to please you!" he had answered gaily. Later, Miss Pamela knew he had read it to please himself.
She laid the Bible down without further comment upon it, and glanced around the room. "Barker unpacked your box, I suppose? I hope you are a tidy little girl, and keep your things in good order?" she questioned.
"I am afraid I'm not very tidy, Aunt Pamela!" Marigold responded truthfully, blushing at having to make the confession.
"That is a pity. An untidy woman is most objectionable! 'A place for everything and everything in its place,' is an excellent rule. Now, if you are ready, we will go downstairs, and you may assist me to arrange some fresh flowers for the breakfast table."
Marigold followed her aunt with alacrity. At the back of the house was a long garden between high walls, the centre of which was given up to the growth of vegetables, whilst the narrow beds at the sides were devoted to the cultivation of flowers. Marigold uttered a cry of mingled surprise and pleasure when she caught sight of primroses and violets, clumps of golden daffodils and narcissi, forget-me-nots, and virginia stocks and wallflowers bursting into fragrant blossom.
"Oh, Aunt Pamela, what a pretty garden! What lovely flowers!"
Miss Pamela's face showed evident signs of gratification at Marigold's exclamations of admiration. "You like flowers?" she asked, looking with interest at the child's glowing countenance.