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Granny greeted Miranda with a smile as she crept in at the window that night. Phoebe, too, opened her eyes in welcome, though she made no other sign that she was awake. Her face was like sunken marble now that the fever was gone from it, and her two great eyes shone from it like lights of another world. It startled Miranda as she came and looked at her. Then at once she perceived that Phoebe's eyes had sought the rose, and a smile was hovering about her lips.

"It was sent to you,"she answered the questioning eyes, putting the rose close down to the white cheek. Phoebe really smiled then faintly.

"She better have some milk now,"said Granny, anxiously. "She's been asleep so long an' I didn't disturb her."

"Yes, take some milk,"whispered Miranda, gently, "an' I'll tell you all 'bout the rose when you're better."

The night crept on in quiet exultation on Miranda's part. While Phoebe slept Miranda and the rose kept vigil, and Granny sank into the first restful sleep she had had since she came to nurse Phoebe. The house was quiet. There was nothing for the watcher to do much of the time but to watch. Now and then she drew the coverlet up a little higher when a fresh breeze came through the window; or again gave a drink of water, or a spoonful of milk. The candle was shaded by the water pitcher, and the frail sweet rose looked spectral in the weird light. Miranda looked at the flower, and it looked back at her. As the hours slowly passed Miranda found her lips murmuring:

"Thanks be! Thanks be!"

Suddenly she drew herself up with a new thought.

"Land sakes! That's sounds like prayin'. Wonder ef 'tis. Anyhow it's thanks-givin', an' that's what I feel. Guess it's my turn to give thanks."

The next day the doctor had a talk with Albert Deane. He told him how Miranda had crept in at the window and cared for Phoebe; and how he believed it had been Phoebe's salvation. Albert was deeply affected. He readily agreed that it would be a fine thing for Phoebe if Miranda could be got to come and help Granny care for her, now that she seemed to be on the fair road to recovery.

It was all arranged in a few minutes and Emmeline was not told until just before Miranda arrived.

"It's very queer,"she said, with her nose in the air, "that I wasn't consulted. I'm sure it's my business more'n yours to look after such things, Albert Deane. An' I wouldn't uv had that sassy creature in the house fer a good deal. Hank's sister would 'a' ben a sight better, an' could a' helped me between times with Phoebe's extra work. I'm sure its bad enough havin' sickness this way in the midst o' hayin' season, an' me with all them men to feed, an' not havin' Phoebe to help. I could 'a' sent fer my own sister, when it comes to that, an' 'twould 'a' ben a sight pleasanter."

But before there was time for a protest or apology from Albert there came a knock at the door, and without waiting for ceremony Miranda walked in.

"Ev'nin', Miss Deane,"she said, unconcernedly. "Everything goin' well ? I'll go right up, shall I ? "Her smiling insolence struck Emmeline dumb for the moment.

"Well, I vow! "declared Emmeline. "Will you listen to the impudence. ' Will I go right up ?' es ef she was the Queen o' Sheby er the doctor himself."

But Miranda was marching serenely upstairs and if she heard she paid no heed.

"She doesn't mean any harm, Emmeline!"pleaded Albert. "She's jest Phoebe's friend, so don't you mind. It'll relieve you a lot, and if you want Hank's sister to come over too I guess we can manage it."

Thus was Miranda domiciled in Phoebe's room for a short space, much to the comfort of Phoebe and the satisfaction of Miranda.

Emmeline was only half mollified when she came upstairs to look around and "give that Griscom girl a settin' down,"as she expressed it. But she who attempted to "sit"on Miranda usually arose unexpectedly.

"Where'd that come from ? "was Emmeline's first question, as she pointed at the unoffending rose.

"Mirandy brought it,"said Granny, proud of her colleague. "H'm! "said Emmeline, with a sniff. "It ain't healthy to hev plants round in a bedroom I've heard. D' you raise that kind down to Spaffords ? "

"We ain't got just to say a-plenty yet,"said Miranda, cheerfully, "but we might hev sometime. Would yeh like a slip?"

"No, thank yeh,"said Emmeline, dryly, "I never had time to waste good daylight fussin' over weeds. I s'pose Mis' Spafford don't do much else."

"Oh, 'casionally!"answered Miranda, undisturbed. "This spring she put up a hundred glasses o' blueberry jelly, made peach preserves, spiced pears, an' crab-apple jam, crocheted a white bed-spread fer the spare bed, an' three antimacassars fer her Aunt Hortense's best parlor chairs, did up the second story curtains, tucked a muslin slip fer Rose, sewed carpet rags enough fer a whole strip in Shorty Briscutt's new rag carpet, made a set o' shirts fer Mr. Spafford, knit nine pair o' stocking', spun the winter's yarn, cut out an' made Rose's flannel petticoats, an' went to missionary meetin', but o' course that ain't much, nothin' to what you'd do."

(Oh Miranda, Miranda! of the short prayers and the long tongue! telling all that off with a straight face to the sour-faced woman, Emmeline!)

"She must be a smart woman!"said Granny, much impressed.

"She is,"said Miranda, glibly, "but here all the time I was fergettin' we'd ought not to talk. We'll bring that fever up. Is there anything special yeh wanted me to look after t'night, Mis' Deane? 'Cause ef there is jest don' hesitate to say so. I'm here to work an' not to play."

And before she knew it, Emmeline found herself disarmed and walking meekly down stairs without having said any of the things she had meant to say.

From that time forth Phoebe grew steadily better, though she came near to having a serious set-back the day Miranda went down to the village on an errand and Emmeline attempted to "clean up "in her absence, finishing the operation by pitching out the tea-rose into the yard below the window.

"I never see such a fuss,"complained Emmeline to Miranda, who stood over Phoebe and felt her fluttering pulse, "all about a dead weed. I declare I can't understand folks gettin' 'tached to trash."

Emmeline was somewhat anxious at the upset state of the patient, who was yet too weak to talk much, but who had roused herself to protest vigorously as the rose was hurled through the window, and then could not keep back the disappointed tears.

But Miranda, mindful of the weak state of her patient, and wishing to mollify Emmeline as much as possible, tried to pour oil on the troubled waters.

"Never mind, Mis' Deane, no harm done. Phoebe jest wanted to keep them leaves fer her han'kerchers, they smell real nice. I'll pick 'em up, Phoebe. They won't be hurt a mite. They're right on the green grass."

Miranda stole down and picked up the leaves tenderly, washing them at the spring, and brought them back to Phoebe. Emmeline had gone off sniffing with her chin in the air.

"I was silly to cry,"murmured Phoebe, trying feebly to dry her tears, "but I loved that sweet rose. I wanted to keep it just as it was in a box. You haven't told me about it yet, Miranda, how did she come to send it?"

"It ain't hurt a mite, Phoebe, only Jest three leaves come off. I'll lay it together in a box fer yeh. Now lemme put my bonnet off, an' you lay quiet an' shet your eyes while I tell you 'bout that rose. First, though, you must take your milk."

"It wan't her at all that sent you that rose, Phoebe Deane. You s'picioned 'twas Mrs. Marcia, didn't you? But 'twan't 't all. It was a man——"

"Oh, Miranda!"The words came in a moan of pain from the bed, "Not—not—Miranda, you would never have brought it if Hiram Green——"

"Land sake, child, what's took yeh ? 'Course not. Why if that nimshi'd undertake to send yeh so much ez a blade o' grass I'd fling it in his mean little face. Don't you worry, dearie, you jest listen. 'Twas Nathaniel Graham sent you that rose. He said I wan't to say nothin' 'bout it till you got better, an' then I could say 'twas from him ef I wanted to. I didn't say anythin' yet 'cause I bed more to tell, but I ain't sure you are strong 'nough to hear any more now. Better take a nap first."

"No, Miranda; do tell me now."

"Wal, I reckon I better. I've most busted wantin' to tell yeh sev'ral times. Say, did you ever get a letter from Nathaniel Graham, Phoebe?"

"Why no, of course not, Miranda. Why would I get a letter from him ? "

"Wal, he said he wrote you one oncet, an' he ask me did I know if you'd got it, an' I said No, I was sure you didn't, 'cause you said oncet you hadn't ever got a letter 'cept from your mother, an' so he said he'd write it over again fer yeh, an' I've hed it in my pocket fer a long time waitin' till I dared give it to yeh. So here 'tis, but I won't give it to yeh 'thout you promise to go right to sleep 'fore you read it fer you've hed more goin's on now than 's good fer yeh."

Phoebe protested that she must read the letter first, but Miranda was inexorable, and would not even show it to her until she promised. So meekly Phoebe promised, and went to sleep with the precious missive clasped in her hands, the wonder of it helping her to get quiet.

She slept a long time, for the excitement about the rose had taken her strength. When she awoke, before she opened her eyes she felt the letter, pressing the seals with her fingers, to make sure she had not been dreaming. She almost feared to open her eyes lest it should not be true. A letter for her all her own! Somehow she almost dreaded to break the seal and have the first wonder of it over. She had not thought what it might contain.

Miranda had brought a little pail of chicken broth that Marcia had made for Phoebe, and she had some steaming in a china bowl when Phoebe at last opened her eyes. She made her eat it before she opened the letter, and Phoebe smiled and acquiesced.

She lay smiling and quiet a long time after reading the letter, trying to get used to the thought that Nathaniel had remembered her, and cared to write to her; cared to have her write to him, too; it was not merely passing kindness toward a stranger. He wanted to be friends, real friends. It was good to feel that one had friends.

Phoebe looked over at the alert figure of Miranda, sitting bolt upright, watching her charge with anxiety to see if the letter was all that it should be, and then she laughed a soft little ripple that sounded like a shadow of her former self.

"Oh, you dear, good Miranda! You don't know how nice it all is to have friends, and a real letter."

"Is it a good letter ? "asked Miranda, wistfully.

"Read it,"said Phoebe, handing it to her, smiling. "You certainly have a right to read it after all you have done to get it here."

Miranda took it shyly, and went over by the window where the setting sun made it a little less embarrassing. She read it slowly and carefully and the look on her face when she returned it showed she was satisfied.

"I seen him the mornin' he went back to New York,"she admitted, after a minute. "He said he'd look fer that answer soon ez you got better. You're goin' to write, ain't you ? "anxiously. "'Cause he seemed real set up about it."

"How soon may I answer it ? "she answered.

"We'll see,"said Miranda, briskly. "The first business is to get strong."

They spent happy days together, those two girls, with nothing to worry them; and as Phoebe began to get strong and could be propped up with pillows for a little while each day Miranda at length allowed her to write a few lines in reply to her letter, and this was the message that in a few days thereafter traveled to New York.

"My Dear Mr. Graham:

"It was very pleasant to receive your letter and to know that you thought of me and prayed that I might get well. I think your prayers are being answered.

"It will be good to have a friend to write to me, and I shall be glad to correspond with you. I want to thank you for the beautiful rose. It helped me to get well. Its leaves are sweet yet.

"I have been a long time writing this, for I am very weak and tired yet, and Miranda will not let me write any more now, but you will understand and excuse me, will you not ?

"Your friend

"Phoebe Deane."

Miranda had to go home soon after that, for it was plain Emmeline was wanting to get rid of her, and Marcia was to have guests for a couple of weeks. 'Squire Schuyler and his wife were coming to visit for the first time since little Hose's birth, for it was a long journey for an old man to take, and the 'Squire did not like to go away from home. Miranda felt that she must go, much as she hated to leave Phoebe, and so she bade her good-by, and Phoebe began to take care of herself.

She was able to walk around her room, and soon to go downstairs, but somehow when she got down into the old atmosphere something seemed to choke her, she felt weary and wanted to creep back to bed again. So, much to Emmeline's disgust, she did not progress as rapidly as she ought to have done.

"You need to git some ambition,"said Emmeline, in disgust, the first morning Phoebe came down to breakfast, and sat back after one or two mouthfuls. There was fried ham and eggs, and fried potatoes. Anybody ought to be glad to get that, Emmeline thought.

But somehow they did not appeal to Phoebe, and she left her plate almost untasted.

"I think ef you'd get some work and do somethin' mebbe you'd get your strength again. I never see anybody hang back like you do. There ain't any sense in it. What's the matter with yeh, anyway ? "

"I don't know,"said Phoebe, with an effort at cheerful- 'ness. "I try, but somehow I feel so heavy and tired all the time."

"She isn't strong yet, Emmeline,"pleaded Albert, kindly.

"Wal, don't I know that?"snapped Emmeline. "But how's she ever goin' to get strong if she don't work it up ? "

Such little pin-pricks were hard to bear when Phoebe felt well, and now that her strength was but a breath she seemed not to be able to bear them at all, and after a short effort would creep back to her room and lie down.

Miranda discovered her all huddled in a little heap on her bed late one afternoon when she came up to bring Phoebe her second letter, for Nathaniel had arranged that for the present he would send his correspondence to Phoebe through Miranda. Neither of them said aloud that it was because Hiram Green brought up the Deanes's mail so often, but both understood.

Miranda and the letter succeeded in cheering up Phoebe, hut the ex-nurse felt that things were not going with her charge as prosperously as they should, and she took her trouble back to Marcia.

"Let's bring her down here, Miranda,"proposed Marcia. "Father and mother are going home on Monday and it will be quiet and nice here. I think she might spend a month with us and get strong before she goes back and tries to work."

Miranda was delighted and took the first opportunity to convey the invitation to Phoebe, whose cheeks grew pink and eyes bright with anticipation. A whole month with Mrs. Spafford and Miranda! It was too good to be true.

It was Monday morning when they came for her with the big old chaise. Emmeline and Hank's sister were out hanging up clothes. Emmeline's mouth was full of clothespins, and her brow was dark, for Hank's sister talked much and worked slowly. Moreover, she made lumpy starch and could not be depended upon to keep the potatoes from burning if one went out to feed the chickens. It was hard to have trained up a good worker and then have her trail off in a thunder-storm and get sick and leave the work all on one's hands without ambition enough to get well. Emmeline was very ungracious to Marcia. She told Albert that she didn't see what business Mrs. Spafford had coming round to run their house. She thought Phoebe was better off at home, but Albert felt that Mrs. Spafford had been exceedingly kind.

So it was with little regret that Phoebe was carried away from her childhood's home, and into a sweet new world of loving kindness and joy, where the round cheeks and happiness of health might be coaxed back. Yet to Phoebe it was not an unalloyed bliss, for always there was the thought with her that by and by she must go back to the old life again, and she shuddered at the very thought of it, and could not bear to face it. It was like going to heaven for a little time and having to return to earth's trials again.

The spring had changed into the summer during Phoebe's illness and it was almost the middle of July when she began her beautiful visit at the Spaffords.