Her eyes filled with tears, as she lifted the vines gently in her fingers, and looked at them.

Mercy watched her with great surprise; but with the quick instinct of a poet's temperament she thought, "She hasn't seen them very likely since she was a little girl." "Did you use to like them when you were a child, Mrs.White ?" she asked.
"I used to pick them when I was young," replied Mrs.White, dreamily,--"when I was young: not when I was a child, though.

May I have one of them to keep ?" she asked presently, still holding an end of one of the vines in her fingers.
"Oh, I brought them in for you, for Christmas," exclaimed Mercy.

"They are all for you." Mrs.White was genuinely astonished.

No one had ever done this kind of thing for her before.