Lizzie's little bedroom had never been looked into by him since Lizzie had run away and left them, and Patience herself had only gone in now and then, when, for the sake of her own pride in her cottage, and to prevent her neighbour's comments, the window had to be cleaned and a fresh muslin blind put up.
She returned to the room now, and with a few deft touches, a turn and a twist or two, she moved the little bed and the bits of furniture out of their usual positions, and into some they had never occupied before.

"Now it won't remind him so much," she said softly to herself, "it looks quite different," and she went out leaving door and window wide, for the sun and the soft breeze to play through.
With this new joy and the music she carried in her heart, her hands and feet flew through their work, so that by three o'clock the spotless stairs were scrubbed, and the neat kitchen made even neater, and Patience herself was ready to change her gown and put herself tidy.
Thomas was still busy in the garden.

She did not know what about, but soon after she had gone up to her room she heard him calling her.
"What is it, father ?" she called back.

"I am up-stairs." "I--I've got a little rose-bush that I've been bringing on in a pot, I--I thought," he concluded shyly, "I--thought the little maid would fancy it, perhaps, in her room." A mist of tears dimmed Patience's eyes for a moment.

"Bless his dear old heart," she said to herself softly, "how he thinks of everything." Aloud, she said heartily, "Why, of course she would, father.