All this Mercy was revolving in her thoughts, as she deftly and with almost a magic touch laid the soft mosses in the earthen dish, and planted them thick with ferns and hepatica and partridge-berry vines and wintergreen.

But all she was conscious of saying to herself was, "Mr.
White asked me to go; and it really is not civil not to do it, and I may as well have it over with." When Mrs.White's eyes first fell on Mercy in the doorway, they rested on her with the same cold gaze which had so repelled her on their first interview.

But no sooner did she see the dish of mosses than her face lighted up, and exclaiming, "Oh, where did you get those partridge-berry vines ?" she involuntarily stretched out her hands.

The ice was broken.
Mercy felt at home at once, and at once conceived a true sentiment of pity for Mrs.White, which never wholly died out of her heart.

Kneeling on the floor by her bed, she said eagerly,-- "I am so glad you like them, Mrs.White.Let me hold them down low, where you can look at them." Some subtle spell must have linked itself in Mrs.White's brain with the dainty red partridge berries.