`` You certainly are , '' sighed Miss Corona . At any other time she would have been filled with dismay over the untoward fate of her green and yellow bowl , which had belonged to her great-grandmother and had stood on the hall table to hold flowers as long as she could remember . But just now her heart was so sore over the Quarrel that there was no room for other regrets . `` Well , well , crying wo n't mend it . I suppose it is a judgment on me for staying abed so late . Go and sweep up the pieces , and do try and be a little more careful , Charlotte . '' `` Yes 'm , '' said Charlotta meekly . She dared not resent being called Charlotte just then . `` And I 'll tell you what I 'll do , ma'am , to make up , I 'll go and weed the garden . Yes 'm , I 'll do it beautiful . '' `` And pull up more flowers than weeds , '' Miss Corona reflected mournfully . But it did not matter ; nothing mattered . She saw Charlotta sally forth into the garden with a determined , do-or-die expression surmounting her freckles , without feeling interest enough to go and make sure that she did not root out all the late asters in her tardy and wilfully postponed warfare on weeds . This mood lasted until the afternoon . Then Miss Corona , whose heart and thoughts were still down in the festive house in the valley , roused herself enough to go out and see what Charlotta was doing . After finding out , she wandered idly about the rambling , old-fashioned place , which was full of nooks and surprises . At every turn you might stumble on some clump or tangle of sweetness , showering elusive fragrance on the air , that you would never have suspected . Nothing in the garden was planted quite where it should be , yet withal it was the most delightful spot imaginable . Miss Corona pushed her way into the cherry-tree copse , and followed a tiny , overgrown path to a sunshiny corner beyond . She had not been there since last summer ; the little path was getting almost impassable .
When she emerged from the cherry trees , somewhat rumpled and pulled about XXXXX hair and attire , but attended , as if by a benediction , by the aromatic breath of the mint she had trodden on , she gave a little cry and stood quite still , gazing at the rosebush that grew in the corner .
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