"It's a real one right enough, in my opinion," said her father, looking very grave, and stooping down to inspect the little bush. "It's a real one right enough," he assured her solemnly, as he straightened himself again. "Looks healthy too."
"Do you think the fairies put it there for me?" she asked, breathlessly, watching her father closely and trying to read his face. "Or do you think God sended it to me 'cause I've been a good girl?"
"Have you been a good girl?" doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I think so," hesitatingly; "haven't I, Bella?" turning her anxious little face from one to the other.
"Yes," said Bella loyally, "you've been very good."
"That's it, then, I expect it has been sent to your garden because you've been good."
"P'raps God telled the fairies, and they put it there," and her little face grew all bright again at this wonderful explanation.
The beauty and wonder and mystery of it all took up so much of their time and attention that there was no more work done that morning, for when Aunt Emma's call to breakfast came sounding along the path they were still gathered about Margery's little garden, gazing and marvelling at the mysterious rose.
"I must have one look at my herbs before I go in," said Bella to herself as the call to breakfast reached her; "they are not as lovely as Margery's rose, but my herb-bed was the beginning, and—and oh I do hope it is all going to be nicer again, and as happy as it used to be. It really does seem as if there was a difference already."