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 in 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 . It was so large and woody that it seemed more like a tree than a bush , and it was snowed over with a splendour of large , pure white roses . `` Dear life , '' whispered Miss Corona tremulously , as she tiptoed towards it . `` The bride roses have bloomed again ! How very strange ! Why , there has not been a rose on that tree for twenty years . '' The rosebush had been planted there by Corona 's great-grandmother , the lady of the green and yellow bowl . It was a new variety , brought out from Scotland by Mary Gordon , and it bore large white roses which three generations of Gordon brides had worn on their wedding day . It had come to be a family tradition among the Gordons that no luck would attend the bride who did not carry a white rose from Mary Gordon 's rose-tree .
Long years ago the tree had given up blooming , nor could all the pruning and care given it coax a single blossom XXXXX it .
After At among for from on since that until without